


Sneak Peeks

by DomesticGoddess



Category: Stargate SG-1, The Hobbit, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Demon King!Thorin, Flying Fox!Bilbo, Fusions, Gangster!Thorin, M/M, Modern AU, Mutant!Bilbo, Mutant!Thorin, Shifter AU, Snarky!Bilbo, Straight!Bilbo, Straight!Thorin, Surgeon!Bilbo, Warden!Bilbo, a/b/o dynamics, baby!Bilbo, crossovers, older!bilbo, singer!Bilbo, wolf!Thorin, world building, younger!thorin, zombie!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:15:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticGoddess/pseuds/DomesticGoddess
Summary: This is a series of prompts and first chapters for works that I plan to continue in the future. Each chapter is a separate story that I hope to finish at a later date. Feel free to browse and leave comments on the ones you like. :)





	1. Popularity Ranking

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in a particular story, you can leave a comment in its chapter. I will try to prioritize the ones that receive the most interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is here for me as much as it is for you.

Popularity Ranking  


23 -- Small, but Fierce -- (8 from prompt post)  
18 -- Bride of the Demon King  
12 -- Creatures of the Night  
9 -- The Blind Burglar  
8 -- Wolf and Rabbit  
4 -- SG-1 Crossover  
4 -- The Crime Lord and the Warden  
2 -- Voice of the Gods  
0 -- To Live  


This affects which stories will be worked on first. The most popular ones will be what I work on when I get ahead of my current stories. Each comment thread is counted as a vote for the story. I only count the comments posted on each chapter for that chapter, so make sure you leave a comment on all of your favorites to get your votes counted. 


	2. SG-1 Bagginshield Crossover

The war is over, the Durins survived, and Bilbo remains in Erebor. The dwarves have moved into the mountain and worked through the winter restoring Erebor. Thorin has healed and thrown off the Gold sickness, but a new madness is slowly manifesting. Due to exposure to dragon magic, heartbreak (from Thorin casting him out and Thorin almost dying), past stresses, less than ideal living conditions and his uncertainty about where he stands with Thorin, Bilbo's psyche is worn and vulnerable allowing the Ring's poison to gradually seep into his mind. Plagued by nightmares and haunted by voices, Bilbo becomes increasingly irritable, anxious and confused. The Company notices his declining condition and try to help. Eventually Gandalf is sent for and the one Ring is revealed. A meeting of allies is called and it's decided that Bilbo must destroy the Ring. 

Meanwhile, a certain stargate team is attacked during an exploration mission to a new planet. In his desperation to activate the Stargate, Daniel punches in the wrong address. Throwing themselves through the portal, they find themselves deposited into a deep dark cave seemingly only recently opened up by a cave-in (due to a dragon's thrashing) to a series of deep caverns. Unable to reactivate the Stargate, they wander into the caverns and are discovered by a group of strange short and hairy miners. They are brought before the king. Gandalf is consulted about the strangers and it turns out the key to fixing the Stargate lies in . . . Yep, Mordor.

Cue the quest to Mordor.

MUST HAVES:  
Bagginshield (not slow, they had the quest and all winter to dance around each other)  
Bilbo destroys the Ring  
Original Stargate team (Daniel, Jack, Teal'c, Sam)  


PREFERENCES:  
Protective/possessive Thorin  
Insecure/hurt Bilbo  
Smut & fluff  
Shorter Bilbo (4ft is quite tall for a Hobbit [he's 4ft in the movie] just cut off a few inches or something)  
The Ring preying on Bilbo's insecurities 

BONUSES:  
Cultural misunderstandings galore (cause SG-1 is from another planet and knows nothing about dwarves, hobbits or elves)  
Teal'c thinks hobbits are adorable (Cause everyone secretly thinks they're adorable)  
Exasperated Sam (Cause she's surrounded by males)  
Fascinated Daniel (He wants to record everything, maybe gets along well with Ori?)  


NO PREFERENCES ABOUT:  
Other pairings  
The fellowship for the quest (except Bilbo, Thorin, and the SG-1 team of course) 


	3. The Crime Lord and the Warden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a request for the story, let me know and I will add it to the BONUSES list. If you really want to see this story get written, leave a comment. It doesn't have to be much. I will prioritize the stories with the most comments.

Thorin Durin is a crime lord known as "Oakenshield" in the underworld and is currently serving time in prison. Not that he has to really. He can get out anytime he wants but is biding his time because of a certain curly haired warden. Waiting for the ideal time to scoop up the cute little warden, he spends his time causing mischief so the warden has to come deal with it. Finally, the perfect opportunity arises and Thorin makes his break with curly haired warden in tow. 

Bilbo Baggins is a just warden who believes in the ethical treatment of his inmates. As such, he strives to keep his prison in top shape while not neglecting the welfare of his inmates. The inmates respect him (and kinda think he's cute), so typically don't cause him too much trouble. Thorin Durin, however, seems to always be upsetting the peace Bilbo strives so hard for. Every time some mischief happens, Thorin seems to somehow be involved and Bilbo always has to step in and deal with the situation. Sometimes Bilbo thinks he does it just to get under his skin. 

Suddenly, it seems, Bilbo's and Thorin's roles are reversed. Bilbo is now Thorin's prisoner and Thorin is not quite as ethical a warden. Thorin is determined to wear down the warden's ethical resolves with his advances and seductions until Bilbo is permanently his. Bilbo is torn between the ethical dilemma of getting involved with an inmate (not to mention a crime lord and escaped criminal) and his undeniable attraction to the crime lord (besides Thorin's a pretty good guy if you ignore the whole crime lord thing).

BONUSES:  
Bilbo already secretly liked Thorin but never acted on it cause it was unethical  
Thorin asks for advice on how to make Bilbo stay  
Mild sub/dom elements 


	4. Small, but Fierce Prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter has been written and posted. Check out the chapter 7. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a request for the story, let me know and I will add it to the BONUSES list. If you really want to see this story get written, leave a comment. It doesn't have to be much. I will prioritize the stories with the most comments.

As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about _anything_ in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk _that_ for all it's worth). 

BONUSES:  
Everyone (men, elves, and dwarves) loves baby hobbits  
Bilbo still manages to save the quest (maybe Thranduil is smitten)  
The dwarves are possesive of their baby hobbit  
Bilbo and Thorin become close because Thorin's walls crumble when faced with a Hobbit babe  
Some Thorin/Bilbo cuddles and fluff  
Sometimes Bilbo gets childish impulses (maybe he gets grumpy without a nap or cries when he gets scared)  
Male hobbits can get pregnant (all or some), so when he regains his adult body, Thorin contemplates how he could have more Hobbit babes of his own (well at least half Hobbit) (no actual mpreg neccessary)  
Dwalin finds himself accomplice to the little prankster  
Little Bilbo calls Thranduil "A big ol' meanie" 

NOTES:  
I say "baby," but I don't really mean baby baby (like diapers). I mean young child. But hobbits rarely get over 4ft, which means their young children are probably around 2ft (like 24 inches! My newborn daughter was 21 inches!), meaning they were probably tiny. Imagine a 4-5 yo around the size of a newborn and then add a mess of curly Hobbit hair and cute fluffy feet. Tell me you wouldn't be cooing all over that. So, I say baby more in reference to size than age.

The work that inspired this idea is "Height" by magiclover. It's very cute.


	5. Bride of the Demon King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.
> 
> Bilbo/Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a request for the story, let me know and I will add it to the BONUSES list. If you really want to see this story get written, leave a comment. It doesn't have to be much. I will prioritize the stories with the most comments.

The feud between demons and humans was ages old. Though a truce had been formed early in his father’s reign, the peace was fragile at best and conflicts often broke out along the border where demon territory meets human territory. 

Which is why Thorin was out here doing a border check. Technically, he should be sending others out to do this for him, being work not befitting of a prince and all, but Thorin preferred to see things for himself. Besides, he needed a break away from normal princely duties every now and then. 

Despite being a land of demons, the royal court seemed to have as much political dissension as any human court. Frankly, it could be downright annoying and Thorin was glad to get away from it at any opportunity he could get.

And he had to enjoy the freedom while he could. His father's health was already on the decline. It was only a matter of time before Thorin would be expected to step up and take over the duties of the throne.

He walked through the meadow that spread across both territories. He was careful to never cross far over into the human's territory. He didn't need to cause a scene by scaring anyone. When he came to a strong oak tree, he decided to sit and rest a while. He had been on the move for several days without bothering to stop and he figured this was as good a place as any for a break.

He sat down against the trunk and made himself comfortable, hoping he could get a little nap in. He was just getting to a light doze when something small knocked him on the head. He brushed the acorn from his lap and tried to go back to sleep. 

A few minutes later, another acorn fell, bouncing off his horn and into the grass next to him. He picked up the acorn curiously. They were still a little green, not quite ready to fall yet and he hadn't heard any other acorns falling since he had sat there. What were the chances that the only two acorns to fall would fall on his head? 

He looked up suspecting a squirrel or some other kind of small animal and was instead greeted by a small round face framed by riotous curls. The child was lounging on his stomach over one of the thicker branches, his cheek resting on his interlocked hands and his legs hanging over either side of the branch. 

They stared at each other for a several seconds, Thorin in shock as he wasn't expecting to see any humans this close to the border, especially not a child.

"Are you a demon?" The child asked as if he was asking about the weather.

"Yes." He answered confused even more by the child's unconcerned attitude.

"Are you going to eat me?" The child asked with the same nonchalant tone. 

Thorin might have messed with the kid a bit for such a questions, but he was so baffled by the kid's attitude that he could only respond honestly. "No."

“Oh.”

‘Oh?’ What kind of response was that? 

“Do you only eat grown ups or something?” The kid pried.

“I don’t eat humans. Besides there's a truce between our realms. If I ate you, I'd be breaking it.” Thorin explained patiently, still baffled by the child.

The child swung one leg over and started climbing down before dropping right next to Thorin. “Don’t you eat the sacrifices though, they’re human.” He asked while giving Thorin a look over.

“Where did you hear that?” The so called ‘sacrifice’ was supposed to be an exchange where each side would send an individual to work with and learn to understand the other. It was supposed to foster greater understanding and cooperation. 

It quickly devolved though. The humans wouldn’t accept the demons that were sent and the humans would only send undereducated and often outcasted individuals.

It had become quite a mess, but as long as the peace held, the demons weren’t overly concerned with correcting the misunderstanding. “The ‘sacrifice’ isn’t meant to be eaten.” He said with a sigh.

The kid looked at him skeptically. “Then what are they for?” 

“They were supposed to help us work with the humans better, but the ones that come are usually too scared and undereducated to be of much use.” Thorin explained.

The child started twiddling the acorn he had dropped on Thorin’s head. “I’m not scared. Will I be useful?”

Thorin looked him over searchingly. “You’re too young to be a sacrifice.”

“I won't be when I grow up. Sometimes, Aunt Lobelia says she’ll send me over right now. She says I’ll at least be a mouthful.” The boy revealed casually. 

“That would be cruel. To send you into demon territory without an escort would indeed be fatal. Why would she say such a thing?” Thorin asked alarmed by cruelty towards the child.

The boy shrugged. “She doesn’t like me. She only took me in so she could have my parents’ house. She only cares about my cousin. She says she’ll hand me over if they ever try to take him for the sacrifice. Well, she says she’s going to hand me over as soon as I’m old enough anyway, though.” He said with a laugh.

Thorin stared at the strange child. “Do you want to be sent as the sacrifice?”

“Sure.” The boy shrugged. “It’d still be better than being here.” He said positively. “Hey! Do you like flowers?”

“Flowers?” Thorin reeled from the subject change.

“Yeah!” The boy jumped up and ran into the field picking a variety of different wild flowers. He finally came back and dropped his stash on the ground before sitting down next to Thorin again. 

“Mom taught me how to make flower crowns. I'm not very good at it yet, but, if I keep practicing, I will be. Are there flowers in demon land? Aunt Lobelia says everything’s dead and rotten over there.” The boy started talking, not even pausing after his questions. It was like a dam had broken. 

Thorin didn’t even have to respond, not that he could have even if he wanted to. The kid never left him any openings, chattering non-stop as he wound together a flower crown. Thorin raised a brow at the chatty little human and just sat back and listened.

The boy talked about everything and anything. Occasionally, Thorin would nod to convey his continued interest. He didn’t even have to fake it. He couldn’t stand listening to the court officials carry on and on in their self-important chatter. But with this boy, even the mundane seemed interesting when Thorin heard it through the kid’s perspective. 

Finally, the chatter slowed down and quieted as the child focused intently on the finishing touches of his crown. Thorin watched in mild interest, not overly fond of flowers himself. They seemed more like a waste of time than anything.

Suddenly, the child stood up and seemed to study Thorin. Thorin returned the gaze warily. “What?”

Thorin startled when the boy dropped into his lap and reached up. He gently set the crown on Thorin’s head, just behind where his horns sprouted from, before leaning back to examine his work. 

Thorin hadn’t moved. Partly because he was afraid to hurt the small human and partly because he wasn't sure how to respond.

“It’s perfect! Now we can be friends! I’m Bilbo. What’s your name?” Bilbo burst out with a wide grin.

“Th-Thorin.” Thorin barely manage to push out an answer in his shocked state. 

“Thorin? That’s not very demon sounding.” Bilbo pouted. 

Thorin touched the crown on his head curiously. He didn’t want to offend the kid, so he would leave it be for now. It’s not like anyone he knew would see him. “So the crown means we’re friends?”

“Something like that.” Bilbo shrugged. “Grownups make them and give them to someone they like. . . . and then they usually get married.” Bilbo said curiously. “I guess that means they really liked ‘em, huh?” He said with a laugh.

Thorin chuckled nervously. He was pretty sure the human child just unknowingly proposed to him. “Well, I guess we can be friends.” 

“Wow! You’re coat is nice and soft.” Bilbo was examining Thorin closer from his perch on Thorin’s lap. “Do you have fur too?” He said picking up Thorin’s lightly furred hand. “Your feet and ears are different too. Except for the horns, you kinda look like a wolf. Hey, do you have fangs?”

Bilbo poked and prodded at Thorin unashamedly examining all his ‘demonoid’ features. Thorin tolerated it well, as curious about the child as he was of Thorin.

“I don’t know why they call you demons just cause you look like that. You don't really look like a demon to me. More like a beast man and that’s just cool. I've met real demons and they don't look anything like you.” Bilbo commented when he finished his examinations.

Thorin looked at him surprised. This small human had just looked him in the fangs and claws and accepted him. Despite everything between their races, Bilbo saw past everything and just saw Thorin and accepted him as he was, not labeling him according to his looks. Thorin didn’t think he had ever been so completed accepted just for being himself.

His focus was redirected with a loud gurgle. He looked down at Bilbo’s stomach which was currently wrapped in the boy's arms. “Sorry, Aunt Lobelia said I couldn't eat today.”

Thorin looked back to the boys face in alarm. Humans ate several times a day, even he knew that much! What this woman was doing was abuse! He pulled his bag over and fished out his freshest loaf of bread and some dried fruit and nuts to go with it. “Here. Eat this.” 

Thorin could see the desire in the boy’s emerald green eyes, but he wouldn’t take the food. “I can’t eat that. Then what will you eat?” 

Thorin sighed in relief. He thought Bilbo was refusing because it was demon food. “I’ll be fine. I can go a long time without eating if I have to. I’ll just pick some more up at the next demon village.”

After some coaxing, Bilbo finally took it. He turned to the side so that he would’t be eating over Thorin and nearly inhaled the food. He ate so fast, he choked on it several times before he finally slowed down. Thorin just patted his back through it, wondering just how often the poor kid got to eat.

After he had downed all the food, Thorin gave him his waterskin and Bilbo washed it all down. He finished with a satisfied sigh and wiped his face with his sleeve. “That was amazing!”

Thorin highly doubted that. It was only travel food and the bread had long gone stale. He jumped when Bilbo collapsed back into him and relaxed. He looked down at the child curious, but Bilbo was already asleep, snoring sofly.

Thorin gaped at the kid. He must have no self-preservation instincts whatsoever. He’d never had someone be so openly vulnerable with him. Part of him thought he should shove the kid off his lap and teach him not to trust strangers so readily. But the other part of him, the bigger part, was deeply flattered and awed by the level of trust the small human was showing him.

Thorin wrapped an arm around the boy’s waist and pulled him closer into a more comfortable position. Bilbo didn’t even flinch. Thorin held the boy to him to prevent him from slipping or rolling off and leaned back into the tree.

Soon enough he fell asleep too. He awoke the next morning with Bilbo stretching and squirming in his arm. Thorin loosened his grip so Bilbo could move freely. He looked around slightly disoriented. How could he have slept through the whole night?

After a good stretch, Bilbo relaxed back into Thorin. “You’re really comfortable. I haven’t slept that good since I had to start living with Aunt Lobelia.”

Thorin chuckled at being complimented for being a comfy chair and gently pushed the little human off his lap so he could take a turn stretching. Bilbo slid off reluctantly and Thorin stood up and stretched out.

“Wow! You’re really tall.” Bilbo looked up at him in awe. “I want to be really tall when I grow up.”

“Then you’re going to have to eat more.” Thorin handed him some breakfast.

Bilbo wolfed his food down before washing it down with Thorin’s waterskin. “Are you leaving?” He asked when he finished. Thorin still hadn’t sat back down and was looking out over the fields.

“Yes. I need to keep going.” As much as he wanted to stay and spend time with the young human, he could only be away from the castle for so long.

“Can I come?”

Thorin looked at him surprised. “No. If I took you, I would be accused of kidnapping and the truce would be broken.”

Bilbo looked down at his feet. “No one would care. They probably would’t even notice.” He said quietly.

“I’m sorry.” Thorin couldn’t bring him, even if the humans didn’t care, the court would surely take issue with it.

“Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.” Thorin answered truthfully. He picked up his bag as he readied to leave. It didn’t sit well with him to leave the boy, but there was nothing else he could do.

“If . . if I become the sacrifice, will I see you again?!” The boys asked almost desperately. 

Thorin looked at the boy. “That is not something you should wish for.”

“But will I see you again if I am?”

“Possibly.” Was it wrong to hope that his people would give him up? Thorin didn’t want that for the boy, but, at the same time, he hoped that one day they would.

Bilbo’s face became determined. “I’ll be the sacrifice one day, so I’ll come see you again. I promise, okay? Will you wait for me? You have to wait for me!”

Thorin gave the boy a small smile and ruffled his curls. “Alright, I’ll be waiting.”

Bilbo smiled and threw himself at Thorin, giving him a hug. Thorin left the boy there at the tree, forcing himself not to look back as he walked away. 

_~15 Year’s Later~_

Thorin sighed as he left his council room. It was that time of year again, the time of the yearly sacrifice. Not that he was expecting to actually have to deal with it. He gave Dwalin instructions when he first became king to give the sacrifice every opportunity to escape on the way back.

So far, every sacrifice since his kingship had taken the opportunity to escape, seven humans over seven years. This was the eighth sacrifice during his reign. Of course, he always had to cover it up afterward. The council seemed to like having that power over the humans and didn’t like the idea of not receiving the sacrifice.

Again his mind wandered to the human boy he had met. Surely the boy was grown by now. Thorin often wondered how he would look as a man. He was a beautiful boy, Thorin was sure he would become an attractive man. 

The only way Thorin would look forward to the sacrifice was if he knew it was going to be Bilbo. But he had already given up on that ever happening. Surely the boy had gained some common sense, or forgotten his childish promise, or even settled down with his own family by now.

No, as much as Thorin wished it, Bilbo wouldn’t be coming. And Thorin couldn’t very well search the human realm for one man. Besides, Thorin was better off not knowing what happened to him. Considering the nature of his caregiver, there was no guarantee Bilbo even made it to adulthood.

But Thorin could still fantasize, and often did, of what Bilbo would be like as a grown man. He had deeply regretted leaving the boy behind. Even until now, no one had moved Thorin’s heart as deeply as that one human boy with honey golden curls and emerald green eyes. A boy who could see past the surface and into the heart. 

Thorin sighed again as he stopped in front of his private chambers. It did him no good to pine, he needed to focus on his kingdom. He swung open the door and stepped inside only to stop short as the door swung closed behind him.

Thorin stared in surprise. There was a human . . sitting on his table . . eating his dinner. He couldn’t see much of the human, as his back was to Thorin, but he did have a suspiciously familiar head of unruly curls.

He slowly walked along the table, carefully studying the figure of the intruding human as he mumbled quiet praises to the food. As he stepped past the human their eyes met. For a moment there was warmth and hope in those deep emerald eyes, but it immediately faded into cold indifference as the human spied his crown. 

Thorin held his breath so as to not give away his surprise. It was definitely Bilbo. He would recognize those messy curls and deep green eyes anywhere. And for a moment, Thorin thought that he had recognized him. Perhaps the crown threw him off. Thorin had never told him who he really was after all.

“Oh, you must be the king.” Bilbo said in his typical disinterested tone, though Thorin thought he could here a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“I am King Oakenshield.” Thorin corrected as he went to sit down at the head of the table facing the human.

“Mmhm.” Bilbo responded uninterested as he continued to inhale the surrounding food. Even that hadn’t changed. “I have to say,” he started with a mouthful. “If you’re trying to fatten me up, it’s working.”

“And why would I wish to fatten you up, human?” Thorin was doing his best to keep a neutral and slightly disapproving face. He had a feeling he knew the answer to that question.

“So you can eat me, obviously.” Bilbo answered through another mouthful.

Thorin wanted to roll his eyes “I’m not going to eat you.” 

“Oh, then why did your servants bring me all this food? Why else if not to fatten me up?” He challenged as he gestured to the wide spread of food.

“It was my dinner.” Thorin replied flatly, doing his best to prevent the smirk that was trying to appear on his face.

Bilbo head snapped up to look at him as he processed that. “Huh.” He finally said before continuing to devour the food before him.

Thorin rubbed at his beard, trying to dislodge the growing smile. If it was anyone else, the blatant irreverence would infuriate him, but it just felt so right when it was Bilbo. Bilbo didn’t care about rank or even race, everyone was the same to him. 

“I guess you’ll have to eat me after all.” Bilbo commented as he continued to stuff his face.

“I’ll pass. I hear humans don’t taste very good.” 

“Then what are you gonna do with me? Public execution?” He asked as if discussing the weather.

“That’s barbaric.”

“Slavery then? I’m not very smart, won’t be useful for much. I can clean though, decent cook.”

Thorin raised a brow at him. He studied the human. He was still quite small, guess growing tall hadn't quite worked out for him. His face was still roundish, but not childlike. He still had the most beautiful big green eyes Thorin had ever seen and his curls were as silky looking and unruly as ever.

“You’re to be my bride, of course.” 

Bilbo’s head shot up and he stared at Thorin. He swallowed down his mouthful. “What?”

“Didn’t you know? That’s what the sacrifice is meant for?” Thorin allowed a mischievous smirk to finally appear. Bilbo deserved to be messed with for not recognizing him. And Thorin had no intention of letting go of him. This time, he would keep Bilbo by his side.


	6. Wolf and Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo was content with his life as a surgeon. True, the hours were crazy and he didn't have much of social life, but the pay was good and he got to help a lot of people. Then one day he just had to go and help a wounded gangster he found in an alley. Now that same gangster is hanging around the hospital where Bilbo works looking for his saving angle 'Bella.' As much as he wants to clear up the misunderstanding, he's afraid of what the big grumpy gangster will do to him when he finds out his 'angel' is a guy. How is this his life?!
> 
> Bilbo/Thorin  
> Straight Thorin, Straight Bilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a request for the story, let me know and I will add it to the BONUSES list. If you really want to see this story get written, leave a comment. It doesn't have to be much. I will prioritize the stories with the most comments.

Bilbo tiredly walked home late after finally being let off his shift. Being a surgeon was certainly fulfilling work, but working for several days straight was definitely a draw back. He hadn’t been able to make it home in three days and he still had to come back in tomorrow.

Fortunately, he lived within walking distance of the hospital, so he didn’t have far to commute, though sometimes it felt like he might as well live at the hospital. 

He startled as he walked past an alley. There was quite a racket coming from inside. Bilbo stared into the alley as someone seemed to be stumbling along falling into things. When the man fell with a grunt, Bilbo ran in to help on reflex.

“Hey! Are you alright?” He asked as he rolled the man over. Bilbo searched him for injuries and his blood ran cold when he found a gunshot wound on his shoulder. This man was probably really dangerous. Bilbo looked him over again and noticed the butt of a gun sticking out of his jacket. Yep, this man was definitely dangerous.

Bilbo slowly started to pull away, trying not to waken the man. He should just keep going and pretend he didn’t see anything. He didn’t want to be targeted by any gangs. Bilbo jumped with a yelp when the man suddenly grabbed his wrist.

“Who are you and what are you doing?” The man growled.

“B-Bilbo Baggins! I work at Dale Hospital! I was going to tend to your wound!” He blurted out in a panic. He mentally face palmed when he realized he had given both his full name and work place. “I’ll call you an ambulance.”

“Don’t! No hospitals.” The man growled and pushed Bilbo’s wrist away. “Get lost. I’m fine.”

“Y-yes sir!” Bilbo shot up and bolted out of the alleyway only to realize he’d left his bag behind. He mentalled slapped himself. He needed his bag. He cautiously made his way back into the alley, trying not to attract attention.

He finally reached the bag, which he had left right next to the wounded man, but stopped involuntarily to check on the man before leaving again. He was still bleeding and breathing hard from the pain.

Bilbo fought with himself for a few moments before giving up. There was no way he could leave a wounded man behind in a dirty alley in good conscience. The man seemed to be pretty out of it, so Bilbo pulled up his bag and started cleaning the wound.

Bilbo was still trying to patch him up a few minutes later when the man came to again. “What are you doing?”

“I’m patching you up. The bullet seems to have gone straight through so I just need to clean and patch the wound sites.” 

“I told you to leave.”

“I did. But I forgot my bag and leaving a man to possibly die in an alley didn’t sit well with me.” 

The man huffed a laugh at him. He groaned as he sat up and took his shirt off so Bilbo could get to the wound easier.

“Oh, thank you. That’s much easier.” Bilbo cleaned and sewed him up before putting patches over his wounds. Thank goodness he always kept an emergency first aid kit in his bag. 

The man was tall and well built with clearly defined muscles. Bilbo felt a little envy build up at the sight. Such a build was impossible for his short, slight form. The only shape he’d ever managed to build up was a little pudge around his middle, and his busy life as a surgeon had quickly eliminated even that.

The man was starting to slump by the time Bilbo had finished so he did his best to pull him over so he could lean against a building.

“Hey. Let me borrow your phone. Mine got smashed.” The man demanded groggily.

“Oh, yes, of course.” Bilbo handed over his phone and the man dialed someone up.

“Hey. I need a pick up. . . Yeah, you know the place. . . Alright.” He hung up and handed the phone back. “Thanks.”

Bilbo nodded. “Umm.”

“Are you done?”

“What? Oh, yes. But you should really go to a hospital.” Bilbo advised.

“I don’t need a hospital. If you’re done, then go. It’s late. You shouldn't to even be out here.” The man ordered.

Bilbo was a little baffled by the demand, but wasn’t about to argue. “O-okay. Will you be all right?”

“I have a ride coming, I’ll be fine.” The man slurred as he slumped into the wall.

Bilbo stared at the man, deliberating. Finally, he sighed and pulled off his medical white coat, he had forgotten to switch it out before leaving, and lay it over the man. It was a chilly night, after all.

He picked up his bag and headed back home, shivering in the cold night air. At least he wouldn’t have his conscience nagging at him for leaving the man untended.

Several days later, Bilbo was still miserable. He sat at his desk, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Walking home in the damp cold that night had put him under the weather, and, since he got home so late, he didn’t get much sleep before having to come back in and he hadn't been home much since.

He sighed as he got up and headed out to the desk to pick up his schedule for the day. He noticed something was going on as he neared the nurse's station he was heading for.

Apparently, two guys were there demanding to be admitted. Bilbo froze in his tracks and his veins turned to ice when he got close enough to see them. One of them was definitely the man he patched up the other night.

Just as he was about to slowly turn around and make his getaway, the man noticed him. “You!” The man shouted as he stomped up to him. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you!”

“T-technically, I’m a surgeon.” Bilbo corrected meekly.

“What’s with your hospital refusing to admit my friend here!” The man shouted at him. “Fix it!” The glare he gave Bilbo could have curdled milk and it had a similar effect on Bilbo’s stomach.

“R-rosy. D-do we have a f-free room open?” Bilbo asked turning to one of the nurses.

“Yes, but he’s been examined, there was nothing wrong with him.” She nearly whispered at him. 

Bilbo could feel the man glaring daggers into the back of his head. “P-put him in it. We’ll deal with that later.” 

Rosy shuffled out from behind the desk and led them to a nearby empty room. She settled the man’s friend the best she could before escaping back out.

Bilbo stood by alternating between relief that the man hadn’t recognized him and panic that he still might. “W-what name shall I put on the board then?” He asked doing his best to stay calm.

“Name’s Bofur.” The man on the bed answered amiably from under his rather goofy hat.

“And what complaint or concern has brought you to the hospital today.” Bilbo asked trying to stay professional despite knowing there was nothing wrong with the man.

“Oh, that’s an easy one. Already diagnosed it meself. It’s lovesickness, as I’m sure of anything.”

Bilbo stopped writing and looked up from his board. “You have . . lovesickness?” He asked skeptically.

“Oh, no. Not me. The boss here.” Bofur gestured to the man sitting beside the bed looking grumpy. “Got into a bit of a scrape, he did. Said an angel came to his rescue, even told ‘im she worked here.”

Bilbo broke out into a could sweat. “She?”

“Oh, yeah. Said her name was Bil . . Bel . . What was it again?” Bofur asked the man next to him.

“Bella.” The man rumbled.

“Ah yeah, that’s right. Anyway, the boss here’s got it bad. Makin’ me go through all this nonsense just to find her. You wouldn’t happen to know any Bella’s here would ya? Sure would save us an awful lot of time and we’d be out of yer hair that much quicker.” Bofur asked cheerily.

Bilbo was doing his best to control the tremble in his hands. A woman?! How did he get mistaken for a woman? Just cause he was short? And how could the man fall in love if he couldn’t even remember enough to tell what gender his ‘angel’ was? Should Bilbo tell him? But then that would put a target on Bilbo’s back. 

No! He was definitely better off not saying anything. Eventually they’ll leave when they can’t find this ‘Bella’ their looking for. “I don’t know. I don’t really keep track off all the women that work here.” He said with a nervous laugh.

The man looked him over condescendingly. “I suppose you wouldn’t. Most women prefer their man with some masculinity.” 

Bilbo’s brow wanted to quirk in annoyance, but he stomped it down and ignored the comment in favor of staying alive. “Well, maybe if you knew more about his woman, it would be easier to find her.” He meekly offered.

“All I remember is her name and that she works here.” 

“Ah, then I’m very sorry but I won't be of much help.” Bilbo eased out of the conversation. 

“Whatever. It’s not like I was expecting much from you anyway.” The man easily dismissed Bilbo.

“Well, then, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to take care of.” Bilbo said as he discreetly made his escape.

_~Thorin~_

“The Doc is cute, at least.” Bofur commented after the doctor had left.

Thorin looked at him in disgust. “If your into men.”

Bofur shrugged. “You sure he won’t be useful? He got us in here readily enough.”

“The man lacks a backbone and a pair of balls by the look of him.” Thorin critiqued harshly.

“Aw, that’s not very nice. We can’t all draw the tall and handsome straw, ya know.” Bofur chided.

Thorin scoffed. “He’s a man, I don’t have to be nice.”

Bofur shrugged again. “I still think he’s cute. Think he’s single?”

“Yes. Unless he's gay." 

Bofur stared at his boss. "You sure you don't hate him just cause you think he's cute?"

"Bofur. Don't make me make your hospital visit legit." Thorin warned with a glare.

"Alright, alright." Bofur lifted his hands in surrender. "Just askin'."

Thorin went back to his quiet pining. The Doc _had_ seemed familiar for some reason, but there was no way his angel could have been a man. He had the white coat she left behind and it was definitely a woman's coat. Besides, the woman had a backbone. She stayed and helped him despite knowing about his gun. She would have to be the spirited, feisty type, not some shivering rabbit of a man. 

Ori was already working on a list of Bella's that worked for the hospital, it was only a matter of time before Thorin found his angel.

_~Bilbo~_

Bilbo sighed as he approached the hospital room where the gangsters were. How did he get stuck with them? He was a surgeon! He was pretty sure there must be money involved for Dr. Masters to agree to let them stay. 

He sighed again as he stood outside the door. How was he supposed to keep his identity safe if he had to see them all the time? He knocked before timidly sticking his head in the door. The big, grumpy one was still here. “Ah, it seems I’ve been assigned as your doctor.” He informed them as he entered the room cautiously. “I’m going to need to take your vitals.”

“Oh, it’s you! I thought you was a surgeon?” Bofur asked cheerfully.

“I am a surgeon.” Bilbo answered with a bit of a pout. He walked over and started cataloging Bofur’s vitals.

Just as he was finishing, the grumpy man’s phone chimed. He pulled it out and looked at it. “Ori sent us the list.”

“Oh, good! That means we can get busy looking now.” Bofur cheered.

“List of what?” Bilbo couldn’t help his curiosity.

Bofur answered when his boss continued to pretend the doctor wasn’t there. “It’s a list of all the Bella’s working here at the hospital.”

“Oh. If you don’t mind my asking, how are you going to know you found the right one when you meet her?” Bilbo asked.

“I’ll know her, like a wolf knows his prey.” The grumpy man finally answered.

“Ah.” Well, that seemed vague.

“The boss has really good intuition. Always gets his mark, if you know what I mean.” Bofur said with a wink.

Bilbo laughed nervously. “Right. Well, I’m just going to leave you two to your searching. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

_~Thorin~_

“Che. Why’d we have to get stuck with the rabbit doctor?” Thorin grumped.

“Aw, it’s not so bad. It’s kinda fun to see him shake like that.” 

“Whatever. Let’s get working on this so we can get out of here.” Thorin order getting up from his chair. Bofur slid out of bed and followed him out.

By the next day, they had gone through nearly the entire list and still hadn’t found the Bella they were looking for. Thorin was in a right foul mood. Had she lied about her name? Was he going to have to go through every woman who worked here. Or did she lie about that too? He paced around the room fuming.

The doctor was shaking more than usual from the oppressive atmosphere as he tried to take Bofur’s vitals.

“You okay there, Doc?” Bofur inquired seeing his agitation.

Bilbo laughed nervously. “Y-yes, I’ll be fine.”

Bofur continued to watch him struggle through his mundane tasks. “Hey. What’s your name, Doc?”

“What? Oh, B-Bilbo Baggins.” He answered distractedly as he tried to focus on steadying his trembling hands.

Thorin stopped pacing on the other side of the room. ‘Bilbo.’ Somehow that sounded awfully familiar, not to mention quite similar to ‘Bella.’ He turned to study the doctor, but was quickly annoyed by the Doc’s apparent incompetence. “What’s taking you so long?! Can’t you even do this much?!”

“Yes! I’m sorry!” The doctor jumped, nearly throwing the tools he had in his hands.

The timid response just made Thorin even more angry. There was no way it could be him! He kicked one of the medical machines in his frustration.

“Don’t!”

Thorin turned around slowly at the sound of the outburst. “What?” He growled as he glared at the little doctor.

“U-umm. Th-that’s expensive m-medical equipment that we n-need to take care of p-people. D-Don’t kick it . . p-please.” The Doc faultered as Thorin stalked up to him and towered over him threateningly.

“Would you rather I take it out on you instead?” He threatened darkly.

The doc paled another shade lighter and he glanced quickly at the exit, which Thorin happened to be in the way of. “U-umm. W-well, as a s-surgeon, you know, I’m r-really just an e-extension on the h-hospital’s e-equipment. W-wouldn’t it be b-better to just . . c-c-control it?” He seemed to grow even paler as he spoke.

Thorin raised a brow at the doctors cheek. Perhaps he did have a bit of a back bone. “Maybe I’ll just do as I like and reimburse the hospital for damages. I’m sure they have other doctors.”

“I’m a s-s-surgeon.” The doc corrected meekly as he tried to gradually inch closer to the exit. 

Thorin looked him over one more time before sighing. The doctor flinched when Thorin raised his hand to rub it over his hair. “You’re not even worth hitting. Get out of my sight.”

Thorin sat down moodily in his chair and started to brood as the doctor quickly made his escape.

“Aww. Why do you have to scare him so much? I didn’t even get to ask if he was single.” Bofur complained.

“Bofur. I need you to get a number from Dwalin.” Thorin ordered. There was no reason for Thorin to be getting this worked up. He could cross the doctor of the list easily enough.

“Sure, sure.” Bofur obediently responded.

_~Bilbo~_

Bilbo sighed again as he neared his apartment. At lease he was getting to go home tonight, but he still had to go back in tomorrow. And that man would still be there. He couldn’t control the shiver that ran through him at the thought of the man. 

Bilbo was sure he was gonna hit him earlier. As it was, Bilbo was pretty sure the only thing that saved him was how pathetic he was. He sighed again. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t tall and muscular or even that he grew up in a quiet peaceful home.

Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, but the man could have seriously damaged something (including Bilbo), besides, wasn’t he a bit old for temper tantrums. He sighed again as he reached the door of his small apartment. He was not looking forward to seeing the man again tomorrow.

Just as he was unlocking his door, his phone rang. Bilbo fished it out of his pocket and quickly answered it. “Hello?” There was no answer. “Hello? I’m going to hang up.”

“Found you.” 

Bilbo froze and his heart nearly stopped at the familiar deep voice. Why did it sound like it was right behind him? He jumped violently with a yelp when a fist flew past his head and slammed into the wall next to him. 

The man grabbed him and yanked him away from the door before opening it and throwing him through it. He stepped in behind Bilbo and closed the door.

“Was it fun watching me look for a woman that didn’t exist? Did you get a good laugh out of it?!” The man growled menacingly.

“N-No! No, no, no!” Bilbo scooted away as fast as he could as the man stalked after him. “Th-that w-wasn’t m-m-my intention!”

“Did you think I would never find out?! Do you realize who you’re messing with?!”

“Yes. No! Maybe? I-I-I was afraid you’d be angry if I told you it was me!” Bilbo blurted out as he scooted back up against a wall.

Thorin grabbed him by the collar, picked him up and slammed him into the wall. “You don’t think I’m angry now?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what else to do!” Bilbo braced for a hit and yelped when the man’s fist hit the wall inches from Bilbo’s head.

_~Thorin~_

Thorin braced his arms on the wall as he towered over the scared little doctor. He was a mess of anger, frustration and disappointment. He had his heart set on the woman who had helped him. How could he have mistaken this flighty little man as a woman? "Take off your glasses."

"W-what?"

"Do it!"

"Yes!" the doc yelped as he quickly removed his glasses before timidly meeting Thorin's gaze again.

Thorin stared down his prey. Big green eyes; soft full lips; silky curls; smooth, softly rounded face . . How could he be so cute if he was a man?! “Are you really a man?” He asked as he threaded his fingers through those silky curls.

“Wha?” Before the doc could even answer, Thorin pulled his head back by his hair and kissed him. Bilbo started flailing and trying to push him off. Thorin shoved his tongue in the doc's open mouth, kissing him deeply. “I’m a man! I’m a man!” He yelled when Thorin finally pulled away.

“I don’t believe you.” Thorin rumbled as he moved in for the doc’s neck.

“Ahhh! Please stop!” Bilbo was doing his best to push Thorin away, but Thorin didn’t even budge.

Suddenly, they both froze as Thorin cocked a feel of the doc’s groin. The doctor flushed violently as Thorin growled in frustration and slumped over his shoulder. 

Thorin punched the wall again. “Why are you a man?!”

“U-umm. I-I’m . . sorry?” 

“You’re worthless as a man.” Thorin growled angrily before turning around and stomping out, slamming the door behind him. 

_~Bilbo~_

Bilbo slumped to the floor in relief, just grateful to still be alive. Until he remembered he was going to have to see the man again tomorrow. He whimpered into his hands. How was this his life?


	7. Small, but Fierce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about _anything_ in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk _that_ for all it's worth).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a request for the story, let me know and I will add it to the BONUSES list. If you really want to see this story get written, leave a comment. It doesn't have to be much. I will prioritize the stories with the most comments.
> 
>  
> 
> The work that inspired this idea is "Height" by magiclover. It's very cute.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo’s high voice shook as he wrung his tiny hands nervously. “You can fix this . . Right?”

Only moments ago he was his perfectly (mostly) respectable self at a comfortable middle age of fifty years. Now he was standing in the midst of a bunch of speechless dwarves as a much less respectable (and very uncomfortable) faunt. At least his clothes seemed to have shrunk with him (Thank Yvanna for weird magic), but it didn’t make him any less eager to change back.

Gandalf stroked his beard as he eyed Bilbo in thought (and possibly a hint of amusement). “I’m afraid, my dear boy, that this spell is semi-permanent. There is nothing I can do to reverse it.”

“P-p-p-permanent?!?!” Bilbo shrieked. He swayed on his feet as he put his hand over his mouth, fighting the rising panic welling up in his chest.

“Are you saying he’s stuck like this?!” Thorin stomped up to the wizard.

“I said _’semi’_ -permanent, as in it is not a spell I can reverse. It should, however, wear off in its own time.”

“Should?!” Thorin and Bilbo spoke at once.

“Well, yes. As I was not the one to cast the spell, it is hard to say just how long it will take. Perhaps if you had better reign over your nephews this mishap would have never happened.” Gandalf challenged the exiled king.

Thorin sent a glare full of promise to his two nephews who cowered at the gaze.

“Until then, it would appear that you have a faunt to take care off.”

“Faunt?! No, no, no, no, no.” Bilbo shook his head vehemently. “I can’t continue the quest like this! I . I could barely manage it as an adult!” 

“I agree. He will only be even more a burden than he was.” Thorin concurred. “Bree is not that far behind us. We will send him back.”

“You will do no such thing!” Gandalf straightened menacingly. “The success of your quest depends on your burglar! If you send him home now, you may as well admit defeat and save yourself the trouble.”

Thorin sent a scathing glare at the wizard, but he simply brushed it off. “The Hobbit will be staying. Besides, I’m sure the spell will wear off by the time we get to the mountain.” Gandalf guessed in that confident tone he usually used when he was spouting hot air.

Bilbo swayed looking far paler than any healthy faunt should. “I . . just . . Nope.” He plopped softly to the earth as he didn’t have far to fall.

He woke up to a comforting floating sensation and a whole lot of noise. A couple of the voices sounded awfully close.

“See what you’ve done?! You’ve scared the poor thing! Bad parenting if I’ve ever seen it!” 

“Tha’s right! We won’t be havin’ ye bullyin’ the wee thing!”

“If he was my wee Gimli, I’d have you’re beard for this!”

“Move aside! Let me see ‘im!”

Bilbo finally opened his eyes at the gentle prodding of rough hands. “What?” Oin seemed to be giving him a quick on the spot check up. As he looked around more to figure out what was going on, he realized he was several feet off the ground. He quickly looked at himself and up to find that he was resting in the arms of Dori. 

“P-p-put me down!” He squirmed and arched until Dori finally set him on his feet

He looked up at the (really tall) dwarves and discovered that Bofur, Gloin and Bifur had all taken up defensive stances around him.

“Ye all right there, Bilbo?” Bofur asked kindly. 

“Yes. W-what happened?”

“Ye fainted, lad. Did the wizard do it?” Gloin almost growled as if he was just looking for a reason to start a fight.

“W-what? N-no, I . . “

Gandalf’s chuckled cut him off. “Well, it seems like there won’t be any issues after all. Now I suggest we get going. We have already lost time to this little . . accident.”

“Move out!” Thorin barked because it was his job to give the orders around here.

“What?! But-but I can’t ride a pony like this!” Bilbo could feel the panic coming back.

“Sure you can!” Kili walked Myrtle over. “It’s not like you really drove her before. You just rode while she followed, so nothing’s really changed.”

“Th-that’s not what I . .”

Fili picked him up without waiting for him to answer and plopped him on the pony. 

Bilbo immediately fell forward and gripped the saddle in a death grip. When Myrtle shifted beneath him, it was the last straw. “Putmedownputmedownputmedown!” He squealed.

Several of the older dwarves came running, even Thorin arrived looking concerned. “What are you doing?!”

“We were just putting him on a pony!” Kili defended.

“He’s too small for a blasted pony!” Dori rescued the whimpering faunt. “His legs aren’t long enough to grip the saddle properly and it’s too wide for him to sit comfortably!”

“Very well. Hand him here. He can ride with me.” 

Every single one of the dwarves turned on Gandalf with a harsh glare for the suggestion.

“He’ll ride with one of us.” Dori declared.

“We’ll let Bilbo decide who ‘e wants to ride with.” Bofur suggested.

“Well? Who’ll it be, lad. You’ll have to ride with someone.” Gloin prompted.

Bilbo looked around at all the expectant gazes, vaguely aware that he was being carried again but too comforted by it to care at the moment. “O-Ori?” Ori was a gentle soul. He would be the safest to ride with . . Probably.

Some of the dwarves grumbled while Ori looked shell-shocked. “I-I’ve never carried a babe before!” He said with a hint of panic. 

“I’m not a babe!”

“It’ll be fine.” Dori talked over him. “He’s not so young that he can’t hold on. You just have to support him.” He instructed with a experience of a parent. He had practically raised his brothers single handedly, after all. “Get on your pony and I’ll hand him to you.”

Ori climbed up and Dori set Bilbo in front of him side-saddle style. “Now just put that arm behind him for support and drive with your other one. If he falls asleep, grip him to you just hard enough to keep him from shifting or slipping and you’ll be fine.” Dori instructed. 

“I will not fall asleep! I-I am not a faunt! Only my body has changed! I am still very much an adult, thank you very much!” Bilbo protested loudly.

“Of course you are.” Dori patted his head indulgently.

Bilbo huffed and scowled as Dori went back to his pony. He would not be treated like a child just because he looked like one! He was a grown Hobbit, for Yvanna’s sake!

He continued to pout and fume as the dwarves steered their ponies back on the road.

_~Thorin~_

They continued down the road making decent time, now that they didn’t have to accommodate a halfling that couldn’t drive a pony. Thorin rolled his eyes at the sound of cooing behind him. 

“Aww. Look a’ the little fella. He really did fall alsleep.” Bofur loudly whispered. 

“He’s so tiny.” Fili gently stroked a tiny hand in awe. 

“And so cute! Are all Hobbit babes this cute?” Kili asked.

“Aye. He ain’t much bigger than my wee Gimli when he was born.” Gloin reminisced.

“Hobbit children are known for being especially ‘cute’ among the children of the world due to their small size, curly hair and cheerfully energetic dispositions. Bilbo, however, was especially attractive as a child and was the envy of Hobbit mothers throughout the Shire.” Gandalf bragged as if he was his own.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Thorin glared accusingly at the smirking wizard as his dwarves continued to coo over the hobbit.

“I find it harmless enough.” Gandalf made no effort to hide his smile.

“And will you find it harmless when we encounter orcs on the road?” Thorin questioned harshly. This quest was no place for a child! He would not see a babe harmed on his watch, even if he wasn’t really a babe! He should have insisted they send him back. He rubbed his beard in anxiety over the dangers he was bringing a babe along to encounter.

“Oh, come now. It’s not as if you expected him to be helpful in such a situation. At least now he will be easier to keep on hand. Besides, you may be surprised. Hobbit children are know for their many . . talents. He may prove far more useful than you expect, perhaps even more so than he would be as an adult.” Gandalf murmured the last part to himself.

Thorin glared at the wizard suspiciously. The cooing still hadn’t stopped and it was starting to grate on his nerves. “Enough!” He shouted back at his company.

Bilbo jolted awake at Thorin’s bellow and stared sleepily at the dwarves in front of him. As one, the dwarrow froze and held their collective breath.

After a few moments, Bilbo’s eyes began to droop again and he fell back to sleep. The majority of the company turned to Thorin with a disapproving glare. 

“Are you mad?!” Dori whispered loudly. “Never wake a sleeping babe!”

“Ye’d Be better off wakin’ a dragon.” Gloin mumbled knowingly. 

Thorin huffed and turned back to the trail feeling thoroughly chastised but needing to save face. “You would do well to follow your own advice and keep quiet.”

The dwarrow fell silent while Gandalf chuckled beside him. He sent the old wizard one more glare for good measure. It was all the blasted wizard’s fault!

_~Bilbo~_

Bilbo awoke from his amazingly refreshing nap with a yawn and a stretch. Maybe that whole quest thing had been a dream after all. He opened his eyes and was met with a grinning hatted dwarf.

“Mornin’, sleepy head.” 

Oh. Bilbo sprang upright with a blush. “I-I am so sorry! I don’t know what came over me.” He turned to Ori.

“It’s okay. You must have needed the rest. . . Don’t worry about it.” Ori added when Bilbo’s alarm didn’t subside.

“I am so sorry. It-it won’t happen again.” 

Some of the dwarrow chuckled while the more experienced ones scoffed at the promise.

Bilbo blushed but made it his goal to stay awake for the rest of the day . . Which he did. Ori handed the faunt back down to Dori when they stopped for the night and Dori set him down near where the fire was going to be while everyone did their part in making camp. 

Once the fire was made, Bombur sat down to work on dinner and surreptitiously keep an eye on the faunt while everyone was busy. 

Bilbo twiddled his thumbs feeling even more useless than before. At least as an adult, he could gather sticks for the fire. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “C-can I help?” He walked up to Bombur shyly. He hadn’t really talked much with the quiet dwarf before.

Bombur looked at him surprised at first before giving him a smile. “Of course. Do you like cooking?”

“Like it? Hobbits live for food! Though I admit I enjoy eating it more than cooking it.”

“Then you and I have a lot in common. As you can see, I’m quite fond of eating myself.” Bombur chuckled as he rubbed his generous belly.

“You’d make one fine Hobbit, Master Bombur.” Bilbo giggles. “A big belly is the sign of a healthy, wealthy Hobbit, they say.”

“Just Bombur is fine. And if that’s the case, we must work harder to fatten you up. You could do with a little more plumpness.”

“While I’m like this?! Good luck!” Bilbo laughed. “Faunts are near impossible to fatten up. They burn through energy much too fast. There’s a reason we grow so much food in the Shire: we have to to satisfy our ravenous faunts.” 

Bombur laughed along and they chatted while they cooked. Bilbo helped with everything he could, but mostly got stuck with stirring the pot. Dori sat nearby watching approvingly as Bilbo seemed to be enjoying his time with Bombur.

When dinner was finished, Bombur spooned up a a large bowl to the brim and sat Bilbo down with it. The bowl was so large that it looked huge on the faunts lap and some of the dwarrrow snickered at the sight. 

“Ye trying to drown our Hobbit, ey Bombur? We might just lose ‘im in the bowl.” Bofur chuckled.

“Aye. There’s no way the lad’s gonna be able to finish tha-“ 

“That was delicious Bombur.” Dwalin was cut off as Bilbo brought his bowl back. “You really have a way with spicing up old travel food.” He set his empty bowl down.

The dwarrow gaped at him. Fili picked up the bowl and inspected it as if it might contain a secret compartment that the soup could have vanished into. “Where did he put it all?” He asked in wonder.

“That bowl’s bigger than his head!” Kili exclaimed in disbelief. 

There was a murmur of confusion and disbelief in the camp which Bilbo seemed to easily tune out as he tried to put his bedroll together.

Gandalf chuckled at the flabbergasted dwarrow. “Hobbits are only out-eaten by their own children.”

“Was it enough?” Dori asked suddenly alarmed.

“I have no doubt we will know if it wasn’t soon enough.” Gandalf answered ominously. 

The group turned their eyes back to their tiny hobbit. Rather than laying it out like a normal bedroll, Bilbo was expertly crafting a small nest perfectly sized for his much smaller body. It would be far more comfortable than trying to fit into a too-large bedroll.

The dwarrow watched in fascination as the faunt made himself ready for bed before curling up and virtually disappearing into his little nest. Some of them turned to Gandalf for an explanation.

Gandalf hummed unconcerned and shrugged. If he knew, he wasn’t planning to answer. 

Later that night, Bilbo jerked awake still tucked snugly into his nest. He cautiously stuck his head out. He’d heard something that had woken him from his slumber. He sat as still as possible and listened.

When the sound echoed through the night air again, he jumped out of his nest in near panic. “Wolves?!” His high youthful voice came out shrill. 

“Nah. Just orcs.” Fili corrects.

“Far worse than wolves really. They come for you in the night.” Kili added dramatically.

Bilbo looked around quickly, trying to locate Gandalf. Where was that blasted wizard when you needed him?! Bilbo returned his focus to the boys at the sound of a dull ‘thunk.’

“You think it’s funny . . Scaring a child with orcs?” Their uncle rebuked harshly.

“I-I’m not a child,” Bilbo interrupted the scolding. “b-but, um, . . do you mind if I sleep with you?” He grabbed his pile of a bed roll and scampered over to where the boys were sitting and resettled it right between them before climbing in and making himself comfortable again. “Thanks. This way whatever comes will have to get you first.” 

Kili squawked indignantly as Bilbo covered up and went back to sleep almost instantly, feeling much safer now. Fili chuckled and even Thorin couldn’t suppress a small smirk at the halflings cheek. 

_~Thorin~_

“Quite strategic for such a little fellow.” Balin chuckled. 

“Still not enough to be useful.” Dwalin grumbled. “The wizard is full of it.” 

“Would you have us abandon him?” Thorin challenged lowly.

“Nah. I’d see ‘’im back safe in ‘is home.” 

“Tharkun has not given us that option.” Thorin growled. “And we can not afford to lose the wizard.” Thorin had never been pleased with the idea of taking the hobbit. But not quite for the same reasons he wanted everyone to believe. He did not wish to drag such a peaceful creature into the dangers they would face. Even if he survived, he would not be the same. 

“The blasted wizard will get the hobbit killed!” Dwalin growled. “If ‘e cared so much about ‘im, ‘e wouldn’t have chosen ‘im for such a quest in the first place and would have sent ‘im home in ‘is condition.”

Thorin agreed completely. The problem with wizards is they were to wrapped up in the mine to pay attention to the veins. 

The next morning the camp was in an uproar. 

“What do you mean you lost the halfling?! He was with you last night!!” Dori screamed at the princes in the midst of it.

“He was!! He was right here between us! But he was gone when we woke up!” Kili squealed in defense. 

“Dwalin was on watch this morning! He should have noticed if Bilbo got up!” Fili shifted the blame.

“I can’t account for every wee thing that moves! We’ll be slayed by orcs while I’m accountin’ for ever squirrel and chipmunk that fusses about!” Dwalin defended.

“Surely ‘e wouldn’t wander off on ‘is own?! ‘E’s such a wee thing!” Bofur interjected with worry.

Thorin rubbed at his temple, even without the noise his dwarrow were making the missing halfling was enough to give him a headache. “Enough!! We will split up and search for the halfling!”

The silence only lasted a moment before accusations and insults were being thrown around again. Gandalf sat to the side looking far more amused than he should be, when suddenly a small voice seemed to cut through the bickering.

“What’s all this racket about?” 

The dwarrow turned as one at the sound of his childish voice. He had taken his outer jacket off and used it to collect quite an armful of foragable goodies. He stared back at them innocently with a freshly picked mushroom clamped securely in his teeth. “What are you doing?” He asked around his mushroom.

“Us! What are you doing?!” Thorin bellowed. His last nerve was quickly fraying. “You left the camp unattended and unaccounted for! You could have been warg food for all we knew!” He stomped up to the small halfling. “You are never to leave this camp or wander off without and escourt! Am I understood?!” Mahal! The halfling was as bad as his nephews!

Bilbo stared up at him with wide eyes as Thorin awaited a response. A few seconds ticked by before he finally got a reaction out of the faunt, though it wasn’t the one he anticipated. Bilbo’s face started to slowly crumble adorably as his eyes started to fill with tears. 

Something deep in Thorin started to panic, though he would never show it. He knew that face. That face was a promise of a coming storm. But Thorin was a king! He would not be cowed by a pouty faced child! “No! This is your own fault!”

Suddenly, Bilbo dropped his armful of goodies and the mushroom fell from his mouth as he opened it in a wail. Thorin had to step back from the sheer force of it and was almost trampled by the stampede of dwarrow racing to pacify the poor halfling. 

“There, there, little one. Don’t listen to that big, grumpy dwarf.” Dori soothed.

“It’s alright. See here? I’ll let ye wear me hat.” Bofur bribed.

“Here you go. Can’t loose such a tasty mushroom.” Even Ori chided in as he gathered up the goodies that had fallen. 

A few minutes later, a pacified little Bilbo, having completely forgotten about his upset from just a few moments ago, sat surrounded by indulgent, protective dwarrow telling them all about the goodies he had found as he munched away on them. 

Thorin groaned inwardly at the looks of disapproval he was receiving from the Fundin brothers. It wasn’t as if he had meant to make the halfling cry. His sights narrowed in on the wizard and he stomped over to him.

“I thought only his body had changed.” He challenged the old man. “Or am I mistaken in believing that that was not the typical reaction of a grown halfling.”

Gandalf’s eyes were lit with a disturbing sparkle of mischief. “I never said any such thing. The body and the mind are not separate units capable of operating independently. If you change one, of course the other will be effected. If you put the mind of a child into the body of an old man, do you think it will be unaffected by its new vessel? Why do you expect this case to be any different?”

Thorin stared at the annoying wizard and his round-about answers. “Being in the body of a child makes him subject to childlike impulses.” Thorin summarized what the wizard could have just said.

“Precisely.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. The halfling the size of a child was bad enough. The halfling _acting_ like a child was another whole mess he didn’t want to have to deal with. “Mahal help us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUSES:  
> -Everyone (men, elves, and dwarves) loves baby hobbits  
> -Bilbo still manages to save the quest  
> -The dwarves are possesive of their baby hobbit  
> -Bilbo and Thorin become close because Thorin's walls crumble when faced with a Hobbit babe  
> -Some Thorin/Bilbo cuddles and fluff  
> -Sometimes Bilbo gets childish impulses  
> -Male hobbits can get pregnant (all or some), so when he regains his adult body, Thorin contemplates how he could have more Hobbit babes of his own (well at least half Hobbit) (no actual mpreg neccessary)  
> -Dwalin finds himself accomplice to the little prankster  
> -Little Bilbo calls Thranduil "A big ol' meanie"


	8. Creatures of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo stays in his tower, alone and so hidden away that even most of his own coven don’t know he’s there, condemned to live out his days in solitary confinement for no other reason than that he exists. He yearns for freedom, for the world outside his small window and for something else that seems to tug at his very soul. Resigned to his fate, he consoles himself with dreams of freedom and flight, until one day he is found by the most unlikely trespassers. Jumping at the offer of freedom, he faces his fears and the unknown as he ventures out to discover the world outside his window and maybe a place he finally belongs in the process.
> 
> Bilbo/Thorin, ShifterAU, A/B/O Dynamics

Bilbo hung at his window, staring up into the night sky. The rest of his family were out enjoying the crisp night air, but he was stuck here watching from his single, lonely window. He both hated and loved this window. He hated it because it was a symbol of his imprisonment and he loved it because it was his only access to the outside.

He sighed as he contemplated the pointlessness of his life. He’d been lock in this tower for as long as he could remember. At least since he attained his superior form. His father had locked him away almost the moment he had seen him in his new form. He always said it was for Bilbo’s sake, but sometimes Bilbo wondered if he wasn’t just trying to cover him up like some glaring mistake.

He wondered if his life would have been different if his father had died and his mother had raised him instead. His father always told him how free-spirited she was, so Bilbo liked to think that she wouldn’t have locked him away. Maybe she would have even been proud to have him as a son rather than lament about how terrible his form was.

But in the end it didn’t matter. His mother was dead, she died when he was still little more than a babe and this was his life under the care of his father. He didn’t hate his father, it’s not like he ever mistreated him, but, sometimes, he had a hard time not being bitter over being the one to pay for his father’s choices.

The door to his lonely tower room opened and his father pushed in a full food cart before closing the door behind him. “Come away from the window, Bilbo. I brought your favorites.”

Bilbo sighed, casting one more longing look out his window. He relaxed his feet and slipped off the rafters of the tower ceiling where he had lodged himself before cupping his wings to catch the air and slow his fall. He changed back to his human form just as he reached the floor. He knew his father didn’t like being reminded of his resemblance to his mother. 

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Not a cloud in sight.” He commented wistfully.

“I’m sure it is.” His father brushed off. “Look! I have cherry pie! I know it’s your favorite.”

Bilbo sat at his table and propped his chin on his hands. He wasn’t sure if his father was trying to cheer him up or fatten him up. Ever since his heats had started both his appetite and his mood had plummeted. Not that he had ever been particularly happy living in the tower, but he had at least had a decent appetite. Now everything felt off, like something was missing and it was out there beyond his reach.

He couldn’t talk to his father about it. The one time he tried he said it was just the natural calling to breed all omegas had and wouldn’t talk anymore about it. Bilbo knew what the need to breed felt like. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch and the only time he really noticed it was during his heats. No, this was something else. This was an ache, like a piece of him had been removed and hidden but he could still feel it. And he felt it all the time. In fact, it had been growing stronger lately and would ache fiercely at seemingly random times.

Just as his father finished setting the table, the sound of a long, yearning howl drifted in the only window and echoed off the wall. Bilbo leaned heavily on his arm and clenched his eyes shut as the ache intensified into a piercing throb. The Howlers had such beautiful voices. It made him wish he could howl, too. Then he could still reach out to those around him, even if he couldn’t see them.

His father sighed in agitation. “Those fool Howlers keep lurking around our castle. I don’t know what they hope to accomplish.”

“They’re not hurting anyone.” Bilbo defended quietly as the howl and the ache in his chest faded into the quiet night.

“They’re annoying. They should just go back to where ever they came from and leave us alone.” His father replied shortly.

“Why do you hate them so much?” Bilbo mumbled to himself, though not quietly enough since his father slammed his fist on the table. 

“Because they killed your mother! And they’ll kill you too, if they ever find out about you. That is why you must stay hidden. Please, stay away from the window! I don’t want to have to cover it!”

Bilbo panicked at the threat. That window was his only connection to outside! “No! Father, please! I’ll be careful! I-I won’t . . Look out it so much. Please, don’t cover it!” 

His father sighed. “You know I don’t want to. I know how much it means to you, but I want you to be careful!”

“Yes, Father. I promise.”

“Alright, now let’s talk about something more cheerful.” His father served up their plates and began telling him of everything that had been going on with the coven lately.

Bilbo picked at his food, listening just enough to know when to nod or respond, but not really interested in a coven that he could never really be part of. It wasn’t his coven or his family anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. 

Finally, dinner was over and his father cleared the table, glancing disapprovingly at Bilbo’s barely touched plate. A couple minutes later, his father was out the door and Bilbo could hear all the bolts and locks clicking back into place. He almost felt bad about being grateful his father was gone.

Dinner with his father used to be one of his greatest comforts since he wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone else, but, as he got older, it began to feel more and more like a taunt than anything. His father was free to live however he liked and interact with the family, but Bilbo was only allowed to hear about the life that should have been his 

He sighed as he stretched his wings and began climbing back up to his window. It’s not like his father actually kept track of how much time he spent at his window and, lately, he hadn’t really felt like doing much else. He latched his claws back into the rafter so he was hanging right in front of his window again and wrapped his wings around him. 

What he wouldn’t give to be able to stretch, really stretch, his wings, even once, and feel the wind in his face as he flew through the air. He felt himself get sleepy as he gazed out the window and tightened his wings, wrapping them around his head. He drifted off daydreaming about what it would be like to fly into dreams of finally being free.

_~Thorin~_

Thorin put his keen wolf nose to the wind again, trying to get another whiff of that incredible smell that he had been chasing for weeks now only to huff in disappointment. He didn’t understand it. Just over three weeks ago he picked up the scent. It was his One, he was sure of it. Even just a whiff of the scent was enough to stir feelings and sensations that he had never felt before.

So where was he or she?! He had looked for days by himself before finally recruiting some of his pack to help him search. Even with five extra helpers they had still found nothing and his temper was beginning to run short.

“Are you sure they’re still here, Uncle? We’ve searched this whole area.” Fili asked. 

“Maybe they moved on. If they were still here, wouldn’t they be answering your calls?” Kili added.

Thorin growled in frustration but put his nose to the wind again. If he could just get another whiff . . 

“The boys are right. We always answer the call of our One.” Dwalin added.

“Maybe they can’t howl fer some reason.” Bofur suggested, always the optimistic one.

“Even if they can’t howl, they can follow his call simply enough.” Dwalin grumped, feeling frustrated for his friend and pack leader’s sake.

“I think yer all ignoring the obvious, here.” Nori pitched in. 

“An what would that be?” Dwalin scowled at the red fox. He may be his One’s brother, but he didn’t have to like him.

“Well, fer one, despite the name ‘Howlers,’ we ain’t all wolves. We foxes can’t howl.”

“Bofur already said that he might not be able to howl, so what’s two?” Fili stepped in for his distracted uncle.

“We’ve been over this entire area again and again and where do we always end up back to?”

“This area. We already know they must be in this area.” Kili answered.

“Wrong!” Nori walked over to the edge of the woods where it opened up into a field. “We always come back to that!” He said pointing a finger from his paw-like hand at the lone castle surrounded by fields.

“But that’s a Screecher castle. What does that have to do with anything?” Fili asked.

“Possibly everything!” He flapped his paw/hand at the castle insistently. “Sure. We can’t all howl, but maybe _they_ can’t follow the call, hmm? Maybe they’re locked up?”

Thorin had only been sort of listening until now. “Are you suggesting my One is locked up like a prisoner in some Screecher’s castle?” He growled. The Howlers and Flyers didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but they were never openly hostile to each other and were typically content not to interfere with each other. It didn’t make sense for them to do such a thing.

“Look. All I’m saying is that every time we go chasing a scent trail it leads us right back to that castle, yet we’ve never actually gotten close enough to tell if the scent is coming from the castle.” 

Thorin huffed in displeasure. What Nori was saying made sense. Perhaps that was why no matter how much he looked he couldn’t find the source of the scent. But it was also a hugely offensive accusation to make. He had to be absolutely certain he wasn’t just missing his One around here some where. 

“We run circle one more time. If we don’t find anything, we’ll approach the Shriekers.” He ordered.

The rest of the pack nodded and took off as they followed his lead. 

_~Bilbo~_

When Bilbo awoke, it was to a loud racket coming from outside his window. He sleepily uncovered his head, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. He peered out his window but was temporarily blinded by the brightness. A few moments later his eyes had adjusted enough for him to see but there didn’t seem to be anything unusual from what little he could see.

He knew all of the other flyers would be sleeping by now and suspected it might just be a group of humans some ways off. His parents being what they were, he had superior hearing, even for a flyer.

He re-covered his head to go back to sleep. He had just started dozing again when he jolted realizing that the noise was getting much closer now. He stuck his head into the window, trying to see and hear as much as he could. He still couldn’t see anything but whatever it was was definitely getting closer.

A few minutes later he could start to pick out individual voices. Angry voices. They had to be humans, the night peoples wouldn’t make such a racket even if they were active during the day. The longer he listened the more scared he got. He could tell they were heading straight for the castle.

Could it be a raid like his father had told him about? The humans feared and misunderstood the night peoples and, sometimes, when things weren’t going well for them, they would blame it on the night peoples and attack them as if it were their fault. Stories like humans being killed by vampires or turned by werewolves and other such nonsense would stir up a riot which would raid the closest night people settlement in misguided vengeance.

But even if that was what it was and even though Bilbo knew about it, there was nothing he could do. His father would be sleeping and no one else was allowed near his tower. There was no way he could warn the sleeping coven, all he could do was hang there and listen. 

He started to tremble as the humans broke down the gate to the courtyard and stormed the castle. He listened in horror as he heard the startled and scared screeches of the coven members as they were rudely awoken with harsh attacks. 

He wrapped his wings around himself tightly as he listened to the chaos happening in the castle below. He heard some of the coven escape and make it into the sky before the humans could finish them, but it was a small comfort knowing that he would be left behind trapped and defenseless.

He shook, hidden in his wings, waiting for that terrifying moment when they would discover his tower and come in after him. Even if he did get out, he couldn’t even fly. He had never properly used his wings. He would have no way to escape. If felt like he had waited for hours, but after a while the noise started to die down. The humans were leaving. 

He sighed in part relief and part disappointment. He was safe. But he was also so hidden that a band of bloodthirsty humans hadn’t even noticed him. He didn’t even know if his father was still alive. If he wasn't, Bilbo would be left to rot in this room and no one would ever find him.

Eventually, the noise completely faded and he was left alone in the deadly quiet castle. He sighed, resigned to his fate, and tucked himself back in. If he was going to die, he didn’t need to lose sleep over it too.

_~Thorin~_

They hadn't even gone full circle when they heard the unmistakable high pitched shrieks of the Flyers. Thorin immediately turned them towards the castle to investigate. Shriekers were never active in daylight if they had a choice in the matter.

They stopped at the edge of the woods and watched as the last of the humans faded from view in the distance.

“Must have been a raid. Think anyone survived?” Fili scanned the sky for survivors.

“Probably not many. A day time raid would be fatal for Flyers. They don’t adjust to the sunlight as well as other night people do.” Dwalin answered gravely.

Thorin’s stomach churned uneasily as he considered that his one might have been lost in the raid, but tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that his yearning was still strong. His yearning would have transformed into an heartrending ache if his One was truly dead.

“Let’s go check it out.” He ordered.

“You sure it’s not too late?” Nori asked sincerly.

“My One is still here. If they are in that castle, now is the best time to check.”

“Alright then! Let’s go see the damage.” Bofur announced as they headed to the castle.

The raid had been terrible. It seemed like most of the Flyers had fallen in the attack. Despite the scene of carnage, Thorin kept his nose in the air seeking out that special scent. It was difficult to discern over the overpowering scent of blood, but he finally picked up a weak scent trail to follow. “This way!”

His pack followed him in silence as he led them through the castle following the faint trail he had found. It led them deep into the castle and finally into a large, ornate room. The room was empty and clearly belonged to a Flyer. Thorin suspected that it was the coven leader’s bed room. 

He paced around, confused by the scent trail he had been following. It was clearly in this room, but it certainly wasn’t _from_ this room. The others watched quietly as he did his thing. After a few passes, he realized that the scent seemed to get stronger whenever he got close to a small wardrobe. 

The wardrobe itself seemed out of place. There was already a much larger and fancy one in the room. This one was quite plain looking and much smaller. He opened it curiously. The clothes were regular plain clothes, but the scent he was following seem to pour out over him.

He pushed the clothes aside and, sure enough, there was a small door. He ripped the clothes out to make more room and discovered the door was locked. Losing his patience he ripped the door off it’s hinges and threw it across the room. They climbed the narrow stairway in single file before they came to a heavily locked and bolted door. There would be no ripping this one off.

He knelt and sniffed under the door and was rewarded with a fresh wave of his favorite scent. “This is it. They’re definitely in there.”

Nori pushed his way to the front. “Yeah, ya ain’t pullin’ that off. Just give me a minute.” He shifted to his human form and quickly got to work picking the multitude of locks.

“So, Nori was right. Your One was being kept prisoner.” Kili commented.

If he wasn’t so excited to finally find his One, Thorin would be seething in fury. But this was his One, he could be angry later.

“Guess we’re about ta find out.” Bofur said just as Nori worked off the last lock.

“Why don’t ya do the honors.” Nori slipped back into line so Thorin could be the first through the door. 

He pushed the door open and was hit with a massive wave of his One’s scent and pheromones. It took him several seconds to regain enough control to actually enter the room. 

They all looked around curiously as they went in. It certainly didn’t look like a prison. The furniture was elaborate and well made. They was a large wardrobe overflowing with fancy expensive clothing and there were many pretty and valuable baubles about. This was no ordinary prison.

Thorin went straight for the bed. He sniffed and dug at it in his wolven form as if he might find his One buried inside it. The bed reeked of heat scent and he was greatly relieved to find there were no other scents mingled with his One’s. He rubbed on the bed soaking up his One’s scent, already feeling a little buzzed by the heat pheromones. His mate had spent many lonely heats on this bed.

“Hey! Go easy, will ya? Yer gonna put yourself into rut.” Dwalin scolded.

“Looks like you’ve got a male omega, Uncle.” Fili said holding up some clothes from the wardrobe.

“Woah! And he’s tiny, too! Could he be young still?” Kili wondered

Dwalin shook his head. “The room reeks of heat, means he’s mature.”

“Well, where is he then? You saw that door. There’s no way he was getting out. He has to be here somewhere.” Kili started looking behind and under furniture and his brother joined him in the hunt. 

Dwalin stood watch over his pack leader who was currently getting drunk on his One’s scent and Bofur milled around checking out all the cute little baubles.

“There’s no one here!” Kili complained.

“He has to be here. There’s no way he could have got out on his own.” Fili tried to reassure, though it sounded like it was as much for himself.

“I think yer all missing the obvious again.” Nori accused as he leaned against an ornate desk, again in his human form.

“What’s it this time, love?” Bofur came to stand by his clever mate.

“We’re in a Shrieker castle.”

“Yeah, so?” Dwalin glared.

“Yer looking too low.” Nori lifted his finger, pointing at the ceiling.

“They all followed the direction of his finger with their eyes, even Thorin broke from his scent induced reverie to examine the ceiling.

There in the rafters was a single Flyer, tightly wrapped up around itself defensively.

“But . . we’re looking for an omega. Flyers don’t have omegas.” Fili stated baffled.

“Why would they lock up one of their own?” Kili wondered just as baffled.

Thorin rose from the bed as he studied the little Flyer wrapped up tight. How could his One be a Flyer? Flyers didn’t have Ones or omegas.

“The answer to both yer questions is the same.” Nori began. “‘E’s not full blooded Flyer.” 

“A half-breed?” Thorin couldn’t seem to be able to take his eyes off the little Flyer.

“One of ‘is parents would have to be a Howler for ‘im to be an omega.” Bofur caught on. 

Thorin continued to study the clearly frightened little omega. Before he had found his One, he would have been disgusted at the idea of anything but a well bred Holwer being his One. But now, after smelling his omega’s sweet scent and having laid eyes on him, he didn’t care if he was a half-breed or a Flyer. He was his. Now he just had to figure out how to get him down.


	9. Voice of the Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is an audio telepathic hypnotist, whatever that means. All he knows is that he can make people do things with just his voice, sometimes without even trying. Which is why 'singer' was probably not the best career choice. Yet here he is, currently one of the most popular pop idols and not simply because of his power (or so he would like to believe). He thought the hardest thing he would have to face was keeping the power out of his voice when he performed until, suddenly, he's on the run. Someone has found out about his gift and Bilbo doesn't want to know why they want it. Something is stirring in the shadows and Bilbo finds himself forming new alliances and reforging old ones he never thought would rise again.
> 
> Bilbo/Thorin, X-Men Fusion,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not an expert on the X-Men. This universe will be loosely based on the movies, but I will be molding it as I see fit. 
> 
> I'm still ironing out the plot so the name for this one might change later. Keep in mind it is an X-Men/Hobbit fusion so there will be elements of both. Again, my X-Men knowledge is not extensive, so I'm pretty much throwing out anything I don't know or like and sticking with what I do. But, that is what fan-fiction is for, right? XP

“Stay awake. Keep running. Stay awake. Keep running. Stay awake. Keep running.” Bilbo chanted just loud enough for himself to hear as he ran through alley after alley as unpredictably as he could. He needed to put some distance between himself and his pursuers before he could afford to stop and take a breath and, as long as he kept chanting, he could keep going. 

He ran non-stop for a solid fifteen minutes, though if felt more like an hour, before he decided he needed to stop before he blacked out. His power wouldn’t help him if it was physically impossible to stay awake. He quickly ducked into a recess between some trash and a dumpster to rest and catch his breath.

“Stay awake. Breath. Stay awake. Breath. Stay awake. Breath.” He reached back and pulled the tranquilizer dart out of the flesh of his back, throwing it down with disgust. How did they find out? And to attack in such a public place, they must be government sanctioned or incredibly gutsy. He hoped his manager and body guards were okay. They shouldn’t have any reason to hurt them.

But how did they find out?! He was always careful about using his voice. Sure, it was tough being a singer and all, but he always made sure to project as little as possible and to only focus on good feelings when he did. Nobody should have been effected enough for anyone to notice. Could someone have ratted him out?

“Stayawakestayawakestauawakestayawake.” His adrenaline was getting weaker and he could feel the dart’s contents trying to drag him under. Who would sell him out? The only people who knew about his powers were family and trusted friends. Could another mutant have noticed and gotten jealous of his fame and success despite being a mutant?

Not that it mattered right now anyway. Right now he needed to focus on getting somewhere safe. Thanks to his parents’ connections, he was aware of all the big underground mutant communities and he knew there was one here in the city. He just needed to find it before he got caught or passed out. 

He looked down at himself. Well, he hoped they would help him anyway. It would be tough to secure any real sympathy dressed as he was. They would be able to tell with one look that he had money, but he couldn’t afford to take the time to change either. Maybe he could at least lose a few pieces.

He listened for any signs that they had followed him this far. He needed to get to the subway. He best place to hide an underground community was in an old, unused subway station. Which meant more running. Great. He hated running or any kind of strenuous physical activity really. 

He bolted out of his hiding place. “Stayawakerunstayawakerunstayawakerun.” If he was right, there should be a subway station not far away. He decided speed was better than stealth at this point and ran like his life depended on it, which it very well could for all he knew. A couple minutes later a subway entrance came into view. He stopped and flattened against the end of the alley wall. 

Unfortunately, it was late and there wasn’t much of a crowd. He would have preferred to have more cover, but at least he wouldn’t have to push through people. “Stayawakestayawakestayawake.” He scanned the area, looking for anyone out of place. He just hoped those people, whoever they were, wouldn’t anticipate this move.

There were a few people around, but no strange men and no guns as far as he could see. He bounced on his toes in nervous anticipation. It was now or never. He couldn’t afford to find a new entrance and, if this one was being watch, then they were probably all being watched.

He took one more deep breath and made a run for the entrance, not stopping his mantra for even a second. He cursed in his head as he saw several of the men immediately focus on him out of the edges of his vision. He had no choice, he had to keep going. He startled mid run when he heard a gun go off and stumbled when a searing pain ran through his leg. That was no dart.

“Stay awake! Run faster!” He yelled, uncaring of who else it might effect. He took off with renewed speed, the effect of his voice increasing with the added volume and force. He jumped down the steps of the subway, skipping three and four steps at a time. He didn’t even stop when he got to the loading station. He vaulted himself right down into the tracks and was running before he even landed.

He ran for what seemed like forever, and he could tell he was slowing down. Even with his power there was only so far he could run after being hit with a tranq dart and a bullet, not to mention the blood loss he must be suffering, but he would run for as long as he could. He was not getting locked up, or experimented on, or used, not if he could help it.

He turned into a tunnel without even slowing down and ran smack into something. He bounced off landing hard on the concrete, knocking what little breath he had out of him and interrupting his chanting.

“Woah! Ya almost knocked me hat right off! Hey, ya all right, there?”

A person. It was a person. Had he found them? He needed to ask for sanctuary. He needed to stay awake. “S-stay . . “ He had no breath and his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He was so tired. He could feel the tranquilizer seeking to drag him under, like nasty gripping tentacles determined to drown him. He couldn’t fight it without his voice. 

“He’s bleeding! We better take 'im to Oin.”

Bilbo barely registered the words as darkness creeped into his vision. Just as he vaguely felt the sensation of being lifted by strong arms, he sank into darkness.

_~6 Months Later~_

**“Sir, there’s a call for you in your office. I think it’s Dr. Simmons again.”**

**“Thank you, Ororo.”** Charles sighed. **“I’ll take it immediately.”** He headed for his office, not particularly looking forward to the phone call. John had been calling almost daily to see if he had found his son yet. Charles didn’t begrudge him his concern or desperation, but he should know that Charles would let him know as soon as he found anything and calling every day certainly wasn’t making it go any faster. 

“Hello, John.” He said after taking a steadying breath.

[“Have you found him yet?”]

“You know I haven’t. If I had, you would have been the first to know.” He said gently. 

[“How can you have not found him yet?! Even with that contraption of yours?! What does that mean? Is he gone?! Have I lost him?!”]

“It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You know there are several ways to avoid detection by Cerebro and that he has always been rather difficult to find with it in the first place. Please be patient. I am doing everything in my power to find him.”

[“Be patient!?! He has been missing for _six months_ , Charles!! I knew Eric’s connections were dubious, but I expected more from you! How can you sit there and tell me you are doing everything when you haven’t even found him yet?!?!”]

Charles rubbed at his forehead. He should have known. “You told Eric?”

[“Of course, I did! Eric has always been good to me and I know he would do anything to find my son!”]

“John, his methods . . “

[“If he can find my son, I don’t care about his methods!”]

“He could start a war. It would not be good for any of us, including your son.” 

[“Charles, I don’t know what else to do. He was all I had left.”] 

Charles winced at the indirect jab as John broke down into sobs on the other end of the line. “I am so sorry.” For everything. “I won’t stop looking until I find him, I promise you. If . . Perhaps it would help, if you came to stay here for a while. You shouldn’t be alone now, and at least you wouldn’t have to keep calling everyday.” 

John sniffled. [“What about Eric?”]

“What about Eric?” He tried not to let his jealousy bleed into his tone.

[“He won’t like it.”]

“This is a unique and difficult situation. Unless he wants to put you up, he will have to get over it. But we all know I have better accommodations for you.”

John was silent for a moment. [“Alright. Sitting around and waiting alone is driving me crazy.”] He sniffled.

Charles sighed in relief. “Are you at home? I can have someone come get you.”

[“Yes, I’m at home, but that won’t be necessary. I can . . I’m fine.”]

“Alright. Call me if you need anything. I’ll check in on you tomorrow. Good bye, John.” He waited until John hung up before hanging up himself. John was coming back, but, under the circumstances, it was a bittersweet feeling. Still, he would feel much better having John where he can keep an eye on him. He would never bring it up to John, but there was a very real possibility that someone found out about Bilbo’s abilities and captured him for their own uses.

 **”Dr. Simmons will be coming to stay with us for a while. Please make sure we have a room prepared for him. I’ll be down with Cerebro.”** He sent Ororo a telepathic message before heading back down to the machine’s room. John wasn’t the only one worried about the boy. He and Eric had both adopted him as soon as they learned about him. Bilbo might as well be his own flesh and blood.

He told John the truth. He wasn’t going to stop looking until he found the boy, or whatever might be left of him.

_~X-Team~_

“What’s up with the Prof? He’s been locked up with that machine of his everyday lately.” Logan asked as he popped the lid of his beer.

“He’s looking for someone.” Scott supplied.

“No kidding, Captain Obvious. Anyone know who for?” 

“The only son of a very dear friend.” Hank interceded from behind his newspaper. “Seems he vanished six months ago under questionable circumstances.”

“What kind of questionable circumstances?” Jean asked curiously, even she hadn’t gotten much out of the Professor. 

“Suspicious ones, it was obviously a cover up.”

“How can you be sure?” 

“Because I investigated his disappearance myself.” Hank folded his newspaper and set it down. “The kid’s father is also a close friend of mine, he asked me to look into it when it happened.” 

“So, you’ve met the kid?” There was an obvious undertone of jealousy in Scott’s voice. Being the teacher’s pet that he was, he liked to think he was the Professor’s most reliable. 

“Of course.” Hank answered unfazed. “He’s a good kid. Very talented.”

“But it’s been six months. Whose to say he’s not long gone by now?” Logan didn’t need to specify what he meant.

“His father, for one, and Charles. They won’t stop looking until they find him. Though, he is proving difficult to locate. If he was caught, I would expect to see some signs of it by now.” Hank rubbed at the fur on his chin.

“He’s a mutant then? What can he do?” Jean picked up, ever curious about the Professor’s personal life that they all knew so little about.

“He’s an audio telepathic hypnotist, at least that’s the best name we came up with for what he can do.” 

“What the hell does that mean.” Login asked as if big words were insulting.

Hank chuckled. “It means he can manipulate, and possibly control, the thoughts, emotions and actions of others through his voice. You can think of it as if his very words have the power to control. Some might label it enchantment.”

“I can see why a lot of people would want him.” Jean nodded.

“That’s only half of it. What makes him truly valuable is his range. His power is in his voice itself, so, if one were to say, broadcast it . . “ Hank trailed off leaving the rest to their imaginations. 

“They could control millions.” Scott concluded with some alarm.

Hank just nodded in confirmation.

“No wonder the Professor is trying so hard to find him.”

“No. The boy is like a son to Charles. That is why he is trying so hard to find him.” Hank corrected. “Despite his power, the kid has spent most of his life suppressing it to keep from being found out and to prevent unintentionally manipulating someone. It’s strange that he’s been found out now.”

Suddenly, a loud beeping started going off on Hank’s person.

“What is that?” Login voiced as they all stared at the Beast.

“Hmm. Seems someone is trying to break in.” Hank answered casually.

“Seriously?” Asked Scott.

“Are you sure it’s not just one of the kids?” Asked Jean.

“It’s from outside coming in. Looks like they’re scaling the east wall. Go check it out. I’ll head to the security room.” Hank ordered as he left.

The rest filed out after him heading for the east end of the building. Fortunately, they were already close and split up to check each of the rooms with windows facing east. They had checked several rooms before Login paused in front of one, listening through the door. He silently waved them over, not quite believing what he was hearing.

Scott and Jean stopped to listen with him as the unmistakable sound of bickering could be heard through the door. Login raised a brow at them as Scott prepared to open the door. There was a loud thump and they burst in. “Stop right there!” Scott demanded dramatically.

The big guy, still climbing through the window, didn’t even spare him a glance, and the one on the floor was too busy cussing up a storm. All three of them stared in confusion as the big guy casually stepped in and closed the window behind him.

“You okay?” He asked the one groaning on the floor. He was obviously experienced, possibly military, as he seemed armed to the teeth with a variety of weapons.

“No! I’m not okay! You just shoved me through a window!” The one on the floor protested.

“You weren’t moving fast enough.” He reached down to help the other one up.

“Well, excuse me! Physical exertion isn’t my forte, and you just dragged me around the gardens for thirty minutes when we could have gotten here in five!” He was much smaller than the other guy, maybe even half the big one’s size. He brushed himself off sounding offended by the whole ordeal.

“You said you wanted to sneak in.” The big one crossed his arms in exasperation.

“Well, we still got caught didn’t we?” 

“Only because you can’t climb a wall. You should start working out.” The big one suggested.

“W-working out?! I am an artist! Not some . . some . . acrobat!” The little one flailed like it was some great insult.

The big one shook his head. “And that’s why you can’t even climb through a window.”

“I was doing just fine!” The little one smacked the big one’s arm. “Until you pushed me!”

“You were about to fall out.” 

“I was not!”

The big one raised a brow at him.

“Well, none of this would have even happened if you had just carried me like I suggested. Look at you, you wouldn’t have even noticed.”

“That’s cause I work out.”

“Yes, and you should keep doing that so I don’t have to.”

The big one rolled his eyes.

“Uh, excuse me?” Scott interrupted. 

The little one swiveled around and glared at him. “What are you still doing here? Go tell Charles I’m here!” He ordered.

Scott recoiled in shock and confusion. “And who exactly am I telling him is here?”

“Bilbo!” Hank appeared through the doorway.

The little one’s face lit up upon seeing him. “Hank!”

Bilbo stepped forward and reached out for him as Hank approached. Just as they reached each other and we’re about to hug, the big one snagged Bilbo by the collar and pulled him back, hovering menacingly and glaring at the Beast.

Bilbo looked up at him startled before dropping his hands, slapping them against his thighs in exasperation. “He’s a friend, Thorin. . . _Just_ a friend.” He added when the big one’s glared didn’t diminish.

Hank made a quick study of this ‘Thorin,’ catching some very interesting vibes from his body language. “Where have you been, Bilbo. You’ve had us all worried.” He chose to ignore the threatening gaze directed at him. 

“Hell.” He answered sounding more haggard than he looked. “I . . Is Charles here?”

“Of course. He was with Cerebro but I left him a message that you were here. He’ll meet us in his sitting room.” Hank turned to guide them out.

Scott, Jean and Login moved to let them through and they could have sworn they heard a growl from Thorin as he passed through almost glued to Bilbo in front of him.

Login raised a brow as the three of them followed.

“I’m so sorry about the awkward entrance. There have been eyes out for me everywhere. I wanted to get in without being noticed, if possible. I haven’t even dared call my dad. He must be worried sick.” Bilbo talked as they walked. 

“Your father has been very worried. He’s been calling Charles daily to hound him about finding you.” Hank revealed.

Bilbo whispered some colorful curses under his breath, eliciting a raised brow from Hank.

“Your mouth has gotten filthy since staying with my company.” Thorin commented with a smirk.

“Yes, well, your company is a terrible influence.” Bilbo griped.

Thorin’s smirk just got bigger. “Better rein it in before ‘Daddy’ hears it.” 

“Oh, shut it. You big oaf.”

When they reached the sitting room, Ororo was already there preparing refreshments. “Is everything okay? The Professor said we had a special guest, but Dr. Simmons won’t be arriving for another day or two.”

“Dad’s coming here? Thank goodness.” Bilbo sighed in relief.

“Who is this?” Ororo eyed the newcomers curiously.

“This is Bilbo, the one we’ve been looking for, and his associate, Thorin.” Hank introduced.

“Oh! No wonder the Professor seemed in a better mood. Please, come have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” 

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.” Bilbo requested. 

Hank sat in a large recliner and made himself comfortable as he continued to study Bilbo’s . . ‘associate.’ It was obvious from their body language that they were a little too close to be ‘just friends.’ He wonder how the boy’s parents would handle the revelation.

Bilbo sat and soaked up the calming essences of his tea and Scott and Jean each found a seat while Login stood watch. He too seemed to be eyeing the big newcomer suspiciously.

Thorin just plopped down next to Bilbo on the sofa, completely unconcerned by their scrutiny.

A few moments later, the door opened. “Bilbo.” Charles sighed in relief as he absorbed the sight of the boy looking not too worse for wear.

“Dad!” Bilbo breathed as he set his tea down quickly before scrambling to the Professor’s side. He carefully braced a knee on his chair so he could lean in and hug the man properly. 

Charles pulled him in and squeezed in relief. “I am so glad you’re safe.” 

“Not quite.” Bilbo sniffled into the Professor’s shoulder, so much like his dad.

Charles pushed him away so he could see his face. “Tell me everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . I have a whole bunch of Hobbit characters that need powers and I have't spent a whole lot of time working them out yet, so feel free to make some suggestions! I would love to hear any ideas you have for powers for your favorite characters. Bilbo and Thorin are pretty much the only ones I have worked out.


	10. To Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That wasn’t living! That was just . . . Not dying! There’s a difference.” ~ Eep, ‘The Croods’
> 
> Four months ago the first deadwalker was found and everything went downhill from there. The world as they know it has ended and Thorin and what’s left of his family are struggling to survive in the new dangerous world. Thorin, military trained and determined to keep his family alive, rules uncontested over his group until one day they find and take in a short middle aged bookworm who’s convinced that Thorin has lost sight of what really matters and has no qualms letting him know it.
> 
> Thorin/Bilbo, Older!Bilbo, Younger!Thorin, Zombie!AU

Thorin and Frerin sneaked through the small town as quietly as possible, slipping from one hidden spot to another. They hadn’t seen a whole lot of biters around so far, but there was no telling when or where they might suddenly show up. 

Thorin’s fingers twitched as he fought his instinct to keep his hand on the hilt of his broadsword at all times. His family had always made fun of his extensive historical weapons collection before the outbreak. Needless to say, they weren’t laughing anymore. 

Guns were good in a pinch but attracted to much attention to use on a regular basis. He kept a military grade automatic strapped to his back for emergencies and a couple pistols as back up. But, more often than not, his trusty sword did the job just fine. 

Frerin’s get up was much the same, save that he had picked a mean looking war ax and a short bow as his choice weapons. They watched each other's backs as they quickly slipped into an old drug store. They quickly dispatched the biter that had gotten stuck behind the counter and cleared the store before splitting up to see what they could find. 

They were pretty much dead center of the small town and despite the rows of shops lining the streets, they had yet to find much of anything useful. Nearly every shop had been ransacked or infested. After several minutes, they regrouped.

"You find anything?" Thorin asked in hushed tones.

"Just this half-empty bottle of Tylenol in the managers room." 

"It's better than nothing." Thorin sighed. "Lets keep moving."

They slipped back out of the shop and continued down the road in a quick half-crouch, ducking into stores occasionally when they saw something that could be promising. 

"Do you hear that?" Frerin asked suddenly a little while later. 

Thorin stopped for a moment and cocked his ear, trying to pick up what his brother was hearing. He cussed under his breath and pulled Frerin into a small alley, before glancing back out. Sure enough, there was a whole crowd of rotters slowly ambling down the street they had just taken.

He cussed again. They could make a run for it, but there was no way to get out without being seen and their alley was a dead end. 

"How many?" Frerin loosened his ax and readied his bow.

"Too many." Thorin answered gravely.

Frerin cursed under his breath and glanced back into the alley. "Hey." He tugged on his brother's arm. "There's a door."

Thorin turned as Frerin flew to the door, testing to see if it would open. 

"It's locked." 

"Can you get it open?"

"Yeah, I think so. Give me a sec." Frerin pulled out his lock-picking set. Lock-picking wasn't always the most efficient method, but it was the quietest. 

Thorin gave into the urge to grip his broadsword's hilt. The alley was narrow, if they could get in and barricade the door, the biters shouldn't be able to bust it open. "Any time now." Thorin pressed as the biters started moving past the alley. It was only a matter time before they were noticed.

"Almost there. Just . . one . . more . ."

A biter stopped just as it was passing by the alley and slowly turned towards them. It let out a gargled growl and charge at them as fast as a rotting corpse could.

Thorin drew his daggers, his sword was to long to use in the narrow alley, and ran to meet it. Now that they were spotted, more would come, alerted by the first's growl. He needed to secure them enough room to get in the door before the rotters could catch up. "Now, Frerin!" He swung his long dagger up and cleanly sliced it's head in two. More already moved to replace it as it fell. 

"I'm going! I'm going!"

Thorin swung his daggers efficiently, easily taking down the one or two at a time that squeezed down the alley. At least he had that to his advantage, though he did briefly wonder if he would end up with a wall of corpses if he kept it up.

"Got it!" Frerin yelled pulling the door open a little more recklessly than Thorin liked, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

Thorin dispatched the nearest zombie that had managed to stumble over the bodies of its friends before bolting back for the door. They threw themselves through it, only sparing a glance around for any threats inside before immediately slamming it shut, locking it and barricading it with whatever furniture they could find. 

It seemed like some kind of office and they dragged the desk over and several (very) heavy filing cabinets before they were content that it was enough. They rested against the barricade to catch their breath and let the adrenaline wear off a bit before they cleared the rest of the shop. 

After a few minutes, Thorin pushed away and started cautiously making his way towards the front of the store. Frerin trailed right behind him silently. They moved into the store's main room and quickly cleared it. There was no sign off any biters, in fact the shop had been barely disturbed at all and even seemed to be in excellent condition for having been abandoned. Unfortunately, it was a book store and they weren't likely to find anything of use here. 

Satisfied that the place was empty, Thorin began to relax. He turned to his brother, about to speak, when the ceiling above them creaked. They both ducked instinctively and listened. The soft creaking continued as it traveled around the room. Footsteps, but not aimless, shuffling steps. No, these were steady, sure steps. They looked at each other in silent communication. This shop was still occupied. 

Thorin pulled a dagger back out and started looking for the stairs. No wonder the place was so clean. There weren't even any windows at the font of the shop, save on the door, one could keep it maintained without much risk of being seen from outside.

They made their way back to where Thorin vaguely remembered seeing a set of stairs and crept up them as quietly as they could. The door at the top was also locked and Frerin slipped to the front to pick it. He worked quietly and carefully, they were hoping to have the upper hand and having the element of surprise would go a long way to help with that. 

A moment later, the door was open. Frerin would have went first, but Thorin pulled him back and slowly opened the door as quietly as he could. He inched the door open, anticipating something or anything to give away that they were discovered.

Nothing happened even as he began to step into what was clearly a kitchen. Thorin crept in, Frerin right behind him, then paused to listen. It was far too silent. 

Before Thorin could stop him, Frerin slunk past and started into the house to clear it. Just as he reached out to pull him back, there was a painful sounding thunk just as Frerin cleared the doorway, sending him to the floor in a heap. 

Thorin sprung into action, grabbing the arms he could just now make out and spinning the assailant, before slamming him into the wall, pinning his arms painfully into his back. The man let out a startled yelp and dropped his weapon in the attack and whimpered as Thorin pulled on his arms roughly.

"If he is dead, so are you." He growled lowly in the man's ear.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I thought you were . . . something else." He whimper when Thorin turned to check on his brother.

Frerin groaned and started to stir, woozily pushing himself up off the floor. 

"You okay?" 

"Got a splitting headache, but I'll live." Frerin groaned back.

"I am so sorry. I saw all those . . things outside and I thought some had gotten in." The man apologized.

"You thought a walker could pick your lock?" Thorin asked incredulously. "You could have called out to make sure." 

"And encourage them?! You could have knocked! Might I remind you, _you_ are the ones trespassing. This is my house!" The short man argued even as Thorin pinned him against the wall. "I'm already disarmed, so can you let go now?" He asked with a shaky whimper.

"He's got a point." Frerin finally stood up rubbing the top of his head. "Let him go."

Thorin glared at the back of the stranger’s head, briefly noting the thick tight curls that adorned it. He pushed him into the wall one last time, making the man grunt in pain, before quickly pulling away and out of reach. “Are you alone?” He glanced around not wanting any more surprises. 

“Eru, that smarts.” The man turned rubbing at his shoulder with a wince.

“Are you alone or not?!” For some reason this man was already getting on his nerves. 

“Yes!” The man returned just as hotly with a glare. 

It was dim in the house, the only light coming through a few uncovered windows. The man was short, barely standing over five feet. A big difference compared to Thorin’s six foot three and he towered over him. Yet the man showed no deference, and glared right back at him. “Do you have any weapons?” 

The man gave him an incredulous look. “If I did, do you think I would have attacked you with a frying pan?”

Frerin huffed a laugh, still nursing his bump, and Thorin scowled at them both. 

“Oh, I am so sorry about that.” The man turned to Frerin. “Here, let me get you something for it.” And he walked back into the house, completely disregarding the warning look that Thorin was sending him. 

Frerin just shrugged and they both followed him through the house. He lead them through the living room, up some stairs and into a hall before turning into what seemed to be his bedroom. He went straight to the attached bathroom and pulled open the mirror cabinet. 

He shuffled through various bottles before pulling out a few, holding them away from his face to see them better. He sighed in frustration as he walked back over to them. “I can barely see the labels in this light and without my glasses, but one of these should help you.” He handed them over. 

Thorin took them eyeing the man suspiciously. They had broken into his home and could easily kill him or rob him blind and leave him with nothing and he was just handing something as precious as medicine over.

Thorin looked at the bottles in his hand. Not one but three separate bottles, nearly full bottles going by their weight, of painkillers. Beside him, Frerin was eyeing them with the same level of confusion. 

He looked back at the man and found he was being watched intently. For a moment, his gaze was piercing and hard before it quickly faded into something blank and benign. Thorin almost doubted what he had seen but he as certain of one thing. The man knew exactly what he was doing. This was a test. 

One that Thorin would not fail. He popped out a couple aspirin before handing the bottles back. “You should keep these hidden.” He advised as he handed his brother the pills. 

The man took the bottles, but his gaze never broke from Thorin’s. “You’re the first guests I’ve had. No one raids a bookstore.”

Thorin picked up the curious tone at the end. “We weren’t raiding it. We were escaping the herd.” He explained as the man put the bottles right back in the mirror cabinet. “We were trapped in the side alley. There was only one way to go.”

The man nodded as he left the bathroom. “Well, you’re stuck here now for, at least, a couple days. They never dissipate quickly once they’ve seen prey. Unless, of course, you find another way out. Either way, you are welcome to stay, providing you don’t slit my throat in the night. If your head worsens,” he turned to Frerin. “You know where I keep the painkillers. Now, come with me and I’ll show you the guest rooms.” 

Thorin and Frerin stared at him completely baffled. “Guest rooms?” Frerin voiced their confusion.

“Unless you’d rather sleep on the couch?” He stopped at the door and raised a brow at them. 

They looked at each other at a loss before following him out. They didn’t go far before he was throwing open two other doors in the hall. “The beds are clean and the linens fresh or, at least as fresh as I can get them without a washer and dryer. There’s a bucket in the hall bathroom for your business, seeings as there’s no running water, and we’re on the third floor so you can open the curtains safely enough for light.”

Frerin dropped his bag, gaping at the luxury rooms they were being offered. Even Thorin was speechless. There had to be a catch. No one was this generous. 

“I’m sure you’re both hungry and would appreciate a wash. Help yourselves to the kitchen while I get you some water to clean up with.” He slipped out of the room, leaving them staring at it in bewilderment. 

“Thorin, is this-“ 

“I think so, though I can’t imagine why.”

“We broke in, you nearly busted his shoulder! Why is he being so . . kind?”

Thorin turned on his brother with an indignant glare. “I didn’t bust his shoulder.” 

Frerin finally looked at him instead of the room. “He’s been nursing it ever since you let him go.” He said only slightly accusing. 

Thorin scowled. “He hit you.” As if that justified his brutality.

“He was defending his home.” Frerin face twisted in confusion. “Which he seems to have opened up to us.”

“We can’t trust him. For all we know, this is an act to put us off our guard.”

Frerin raised his brow in an unspoken ‘Really? Did he look dangerous to you?’.

Thorin returned the look with an equally absent, ‘looks can be deceiving.’.

Frerin huffed and shook his head as he threw down his bag. “He said we could help ourselves to his pantry. Let’s go check it out.” 

Thorin set his own bag down and followed him back down to the kitchen. They started opening cupboards and Frerin let out a small gasp when he discovered the actual pantry. “Thorin.” He breathed in awe.

Thorin came up behind him, equally in awe as he scanned what his brother had found. 

They both stepped into the large walk in pantry. Every wall shelf was lined or packed with food. Cans, bags, jars, of non-perishable or long-lasting foods. As Thorin looked closer, he realized much of it was hand packaged, rather than store bought. Numerous airtight containers of dried fruits and veggies, all carefully labeled. 

“Thorin . . The kids-“ 

“You have children?”

They both spun around at the man’s voice as if caught with their hands in the cookie jar, Thorin absently remembered he had seen a package of cookies in the pantry somewhere. 

“Our sister. She has two boys.” Frerin responded as the man placed two buckets on the kitchen island. 

He nodded solemnly. “It’s a dangerous time to have children.” He sighed wistfully and pulled the buckets back off the counter. “Take what you want, I highly doubt I could stop you anyway. I’ll leave your water and rags in your rooms.” And he marched back through the house. 

Frerin turned his wide eyes back to his brother. "Is he serious? Thorin, we could feed the boys for weeks with this. And look! Cookies!" He snatched the package off the center shelf. So, that's where Thorin had seen them. "They never get sweets!"

"You would have us take his food? Raid his pantry?" Thorin challenged, though he wouldn't admit that it had crossed his mind and he may even yet be persuaded.

"Well . . he said to take what we wanted." Frerin defended weakly, silently acknowledging it for the excuse it was.

"Because he expects us to take it from him by force." He retorted lowly. He turned and grabbed several granola bars out of a box before leaving the tempting pantry behind. He walked back upstairs and found the man depositing a towel and rag on the bed of the second guest room, the bucket of water already sitting on the floor by the bed. "You expect us to take your food, steal your medicines, and yet you continue to treat us like guests. Why else if not to slaughter us in our sleep before we can do either?"

The man's head whipped up at the accusation. He spluttered a moment. "What? You think that because i'm kind to you and treat you like respectable human beings that I must be out to kill you? The world ending is no excuse to behave any less humanely than before. My pantry is large, even if you both took as much as you could carry, i would still have plenty to last me a while." Even as he spoke he pulled his vest tighter around his middle. His clothes were loose and spoke of weight loss due to food rationing despite his overflowing pantry.

"No, you have already spared my life. If I can repay you with food and medicine, it is a fair trade. Take what you need." He ended with finality and a wave of his hand before slipping around Thorin and back out to the hall. Thorin watched him leave even as his brother passed him in the hall coming towards Thorin. 

"What happened?"

"He is soft." Thorin critiqued harshly even as he groaned inwardly. The man was too gentle and moral. He wouldn't last a day if he ever left this sanctuary he had made for himself. It was only a matter of time before he was found by others who would hurt or kill him . . or worse, if only for what he had.

"Oh, I don't know. He's nice enough sure, but he's not exactly running scared is he? Seems to have quite the backbone." Frerin munched on his own granola bar as they stared down the hall the way the man had disappeared.

"Morally upright and stupidly brave. Sounds like a recipe for an early death to me." He turned back into his room and found his washing things. "Might as well enjoy a wash." He encouraged his brother even as he discovered the small soap bar sitting on his rag.

Frerin didn't need to be told twice and quickly made his way to his own washing set. Thorin took his time washing and enjoying the feeling of being clean, knowing that one small man (whom he could easily break) was the only threat to be found nearby.

Once he had finished and redressed, he checked on his brother. Frerin was already passed out on his bed and Thorin shook his head at his too trusting brother. At least he had his dagger near by and within easy reach. He closed the door and stalked through the house in search of their host. 

He paused baffled when he couldn't find the man and was even more so when he still came up empty after checking the first floor shop. He stood in the kitchen, absently looking around as he trying to puzzle out where his host had gone. He couldn't have run, they building was still surrounded by rotters.

His eyes landed on another door off the kitchen. It had a window and clearly lead to the outside, but they were on the second story. He cocked his head as he approached it. He cautiously opened it and it glided open soundlessly. Sure enough, there was a grated fire escape just outside. The lower ladder had been pulled up, thankfully, as it happened to be the same alley that they had been trapped in, but the stairs also continued up. 

For lack of anywhere else to look, Thorin scaled the steps as quietly as he could. The rotters were thick beneath him and the building next door so close he could touch it, as he made his way up the stairs. He paused at the third story window, glancing in. It looked like the master bedroom, so he kept on going.

When his head finally began to breach over the edge of the roof, his eyes widened in disbelief. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting but this was not it. There was green everywhere, every inch that wasn't pathway seemed to be sprouting something. Fruits, vegetables, even trees were thriving up here on the roof. 

He gaped as he walked through the elaborate rooftop garden. There were even clothes lines and right in the center sat a fire pit, ablaze with a pot hanging over it. He was still gaping when movement caught his eye near a corner of the roof. 

There was their host, standing on a stool and struggling with some kind of huge funnel over a large barrel. He walked over, not being intentionally quiet. "What are you doing?"

The man startled with a gasp and lost his footing. Thorin reached out and grabbed him instinctively, his own heart racing at the stumble. They were three stories up and far too close to the edge for his comfort. The man quickly re-balanced with Thorin's help.

"Sweet Yvanna! You scared me." He patted his chest willing his own heart to calm down.

"Sorry." Thorin mumbled contritely. "What are you working on?"

"I'm trying to get this funnel out to clean it, but it's stuck." He grunted as he tugged at it again. The man gave him an appraising look. “I don’t suppose you could . . . “. He tilted hims head towards the funnel. 

Thorin raised his brow at the unspoken request but reached out and gave it a tug. After a few more strategic tugs it popped out.

“Oh, thank you.” The man sighed in relief. “It must be nice being so tall and muscular.” He grumbled quietly as he stepped off his stool to clean out the funnel. 

The side of Thorin’s mouth just barely twisted in a smirk at the comment. While he was on his stool, they were almost eye to eye. He studied the man as he worked on the huge funnel, seeing him far better now that they were out under the sun. 

His hair was mostly a dark golden color, almost like honey, save for the few grey curls around his temples. His face was softly rounded and already sported a few tell-tale lines of age around his eyes. Otherwise, he looked young and healthy enough. Thorin might have thought him younger than himself if not for the few tells. 

As it was, he suspected he was older and simply aged well, though he could be younger and aged beyond his years. But Thorin strongly suspected the former. 

And his eyes. They were a bright green, like emerald, and, despite the sharpness Thorin occasionally caught, they were gentle and kind. Thorin realized he was staring and quickly glanced away as the man stepped up to put the funnel back.

Thorin cleared his throat. “What is this?” He gestured to the barrel. 

“It’s a rain barrel.” The man grunted as he fought to get the funnel back in place. 

Thorin reached over and helped him get it in. “And you just happen to have one.”

The man looked at him as he stepped back off the stool. “No, I have four. I’ve had them for nearly ten years. Bought them when I started my garden. Never thought they’d come in this handy though.” He mumbled at the end. “Fresh water is a rare commodity these days.” 

“That it is.” Thorin followed him as he went to stir the pot over the fire. “What are you cooking?”

“Thought I’d make a stew. Mostly vegetables, but I threw a few jerky in for flavor. A hot meal is nice every once in a while.” 

Thorin glanced around again. There was even a small greenhouse towards the back. The man couldn’t have been better prepared for an apocalypse if he had tried. “Have you been here since the outbreak?”

The man chuckled. “I’ve been here since before the outbreak. I did some shopping about a week before everything fell apart and then closed up shop for a short vacation. Needless to say, I never reopened.”

“You’ve done quite well for yourself.” 

The man seemed to shrug off the compliment. “I suppose I’ll last a little longer yet. The stew should be done soon, if you’d like to go get your brother. I’ll be up here.” 

Thorin nodded and went to retrieve Frerin. A few minutes later, it was Frerin’s turn to gape. 

“Come! Come sit. The man called as he scooped stew into bowls. He had pulled up several stools around the fire and they sat down. He handed them each a bowl and a bottle of water. Frerin continued to gape even as the man sat down and began eating his own. 

“No wonder you have so much food!” Was the first thing that came out his mouth. 

The man chuckled. “Yes, I suppose I’m a bit of a gardener.”

“A bit?” Frerin asked incredulously as he took a bite of his stew. “And a cook, apparently!”

“Thank you.” He chuckled. “I do enjoy cooking, or, at least, I did before all my appliances died on me.”

They ate in silence for a while. Thorin had to admit, it was delicious. 

The man got up and retrieved their empty bowls, only to refill them and hand them back. They both stared and Frerin decided to break the silence. “Have you every considered leaving? You know, joining a group?”

Thorin side-eyed his brother with a glare. As resourceful as the man was, it would mean nothing if he got himself killed the moment he stepped out his door.

Thorin relaxed when the man shook his head. “No, I’m too old and slow. Survival is for the young and fit.”

Well, at least he understood his own limitations. Too bad Frerin didn’t, apparently.

“So, your just going to lock yourself away here until you die? What about winter?”

Thorin hadn’t thought of that. Abundant food and water won’t keep him from freezing to death or from being found by others.

The man shrugged off Frerin’s concerns. “I have no delusions of survival. I have my books and my garden. At least I can do what I love until my time comes.”

“You should come with us.”

Thorin’s head shot up and he stared at his brother in disbelief. The man just admitted he would slow them down. There was no way Thorin was going to be responsible for the man’s life. He would only be a burden. His skill set was clearly better suited for where he was, not for running from and fighting biters. 

The man hadn’t missed Thorin’s reaction. “Oh, I don’t think so. Better to die here peacefully than out there in pieces.”

“You could at least think about it. We never did tell you or names. I’m Frerin and this is my older brother, Thorin. I guess he’s the leader of our group.”

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service. And if that's the case, I see I am already unwelcome.”

Thorin shot him a glare to hide his own guilt. The man was better off staying here and living what was left of his life in comfort than out there getting eaten by rotters or worse slowing down and risking the others. No, Mr. Baggins was staying right here.


	11. The Blind Burglar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'A burglar of great skill.' The wizard said. 'Best in the business.' He said. 'Would decide the fate of their quest.' He said. And here they were in the land of _halflings_ , in the home of a gentle hobbit who looked like he had never worked a hard day in his life. What was that blasted wizard thinking?! And why was the hobbit acting so . . peculiar? Who needed a bloody walking stick in their own home?! And what was up with his . . . wait. Mahal's beard! Was the hobbit really blind?! Thorin was going to have words with a certain wizard.
> 
> Bilbo/Thorin; Blind!Bilbo; Protective!Thorin

Bilbo sat on his bench enjoying the warmth of the sun and the whispers on the wind as he smoked his pipe. It was a warm, peaceful day. He could hear he bustle down in the market and his neighbor Hamfast at work in his garden while his little ones ran about. 

He could smell the delicious scent so of freshly backed breads, pies and various other delectable foods wafting through the Shire as Hobbit lasses busied in their kitchens. The sun was warm on his skin and the breeze a gentle caress through his curls. At times like these, he could easily forget that he had never actually seen the Shire, it’s colors, or even the brightness of the sun. It was easy to forget when everything felt so familiar. 

He blew a lazy smoke ring, briefly recalling the numerous tries it had taken him to get the mouth shape right, relying only on the spoken guidance of others. Of course, that was one of the easier tasks he had had to learn without his sight. 

He paused in his reminiscing when he began to pick up some strange vibrations in his sensitive feet. Footsteps, obviously, but far to heave and long for any hobbit. As they got closer, he hummed in recognition. “Gandalf.” He greeted pleasantly as the wizard came to a stop just on the other side of his fence. “What brings you here, my friend?” As if he didn’t already know. Gandalf rarely showed up for any but two reasons: parties and adventures, and there were no parties scheduled anytime soon. 

“Bilbo, my boy! It is good to see you in good health.” The Wizard returned. “Keeping those hobbit toes out of trouble, I trust?” He smirked with mischief. 

The hobbit huffed in mock indignity. “I am a perfectly respectable hobbit now, I will have you know! My toes are entirely trouble free!”

“What a terrible shame! Perhaps, over a nice cup of tea, I might be able to help you find a solution to your dire situation.” Gandalf returned, a hint of mirth in his voice belying his serious tone.

Bilbo chuckled and knocked the ashes from his pipe. “Very well, I suppose I can spare you a cup of tea, at the least, and perhaps a few biscuits. But don’t think I’m not on to you old man! You and your snake oil cures called adventures!” He opened the gate for the wizard before leading him up to the door.

“Why, Bilbo, I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re speaking of.” The wizard followed feigning innocence. 

Bilbo just huffed and let him into his smial. Several minutes later, they were seated in the kitchen sipping tea and finishing off the last bit of a carrot cake that Bilbo had forgotten he had. “You know I’m retired, Gandalf.” Bilbo started before the wizard could start his pitch.

“We both know you could never be truly retired, not as long as Took blood runs in your veins.” 

“It has been very difficult earning back the proper Baggins’ reputation, even more so considering my . . condition. I’m not going to drop it and run off without a very good reason.”

“Since when have you cared so much about your ‘proper Baggins’ reputation?’ What happened to the hobbit who craved and searched for adventures?” Gandalf pried.

“Since it nearly cost me everything.” Bilbo scowled, the wizard already knew this. 

“Of course. I’m sorry for your losses, Bilbo, but know I would not seek you out if I did not require someone of your skill.”

“I won’t promise anything, but, go on, what is this important adventure you have for me?” Bilbo sipped at his tea.

“Actually, I was hoping to let your potential employers reveal that for you. You see, I am seeking a final member for their company as they are about to set out on an epic quest.” Gandalf revealed mysteriously.

Bilbo set his cup down with more care than usual. That sounded a lot like- “They’re dwarrow, aren’t they?”

Gandalf made a strange strangled sound as he took another sip of his tea to avoid answering the question. 

Bilbo sighed. “Gandalf, you know how my last . . encounter with dwarrow ended.” Not well, to put it mildly. It was one of the reasons he went into early retirement. 

“These are not like those dwarrow. These dwarrow are honorable. I can personally guarantee your safety among them as I will be joining the quest as much as possible.”

Bilbo ran a hand through his unruly curls. They were always wild, one of the disadvantages of being blind. Though he suspected they would be hard to wrangle even if he could see them. “And what makes you think these dwarrow will even consider hiring a hobbit.” 

“They have given me leave to choose their final member. They will hire you on my recommendation.” Gandalf assured. 

Bilbo shook his head, things were never that simple. They might hire him, but that didn’t mean they would ever accept him. 

“At least hear them out, Bilbo. That is all I ask.” 

Bilbo highly doubted that, but finally nodded. “Fine, when will they be here?”

“Soon.” The Wizard said with that same strangled voice.

“They’re already on their way, aren’t they.” Bilbo wasn’t really asking. He knew the old coot too well. 

“Possibly.”

“Today or tomorrow?”

“I would expect them by dinner tomorrow.” Gandalf revealed seeing Bilbo’s acceptance of the inevitable. 

“How many?”

“Several.” The Wizard was using that same strangled voice again.

“How many, Gandalf?” Bilbo asked, voice firm with authority.

“Thirteen.” The Wizard relented. “Besides myself.” 

Bilbo shook his head. He didn’t know why Gandalf couldn’t just be upfront about it all. It’s not like Bilbo couldn’t detect every half truth he tried to get by with. Habit probably. “And lodging?”

“If you would be amendable.”

“Yes, yes, fine. Then I expect you to finish your tea and be gone. I have work to do.”

No sooner had the Wizard finished his tea, Bilbo was shoving him out the door so he could get to work. He would be cooking and cleaning nearly non-stop until tomorrow evening. 

As soon as Gandalf was out the door, Bilbo flew about with a purpose. He fired up his oven and started throwing together a variety of desserts. From pies and cakes to turnovers and biscuits. Amidst cooking and baking he attacked his guest rooms, airing out mattresses and setting out fresh linens. 

It was late when he finally retired from the night and he got up early the next day to get started. His day was a bustle of activity, cooking, baking and cleaning and just making sure everything would be perfect. 

He wasn’t particularly excited about his guests being dwarrow. He knew a thing or two about them and it wasn’t all flattering. But he would present his best regardless, after all, he was a proper Baggins of Bag End and he it wasn’t truly his style to judge an entire race by the actions of a few.

He made meat and potatoes dishes galore and even whipped up a few veggie dishes which he cleverly disguised with cheese. By the time he was done, every surface in his kitchen was overflowing with succulent dishes and he still had some time to get cleaned up. 

He took a quick bath and picked out his nicest clothes for the occasion. He stepped over to his staff rack, running his hands over his collection of walking sticks. He didn’t usually need to use one around his own smial, but, with a smial full of dwarrow, he had a feeling it would be beneficial to have one. 

He picked out on of his favorites. A solid oak one, simple in its intricately carved form. It was carved and stained to look like an old branch straight off the tree, or so he was told, but the texture was sanded smooth to the touch. His mother had gifted it to him shortly before she passed. It was also one of his strongest, all the better for knocking hard Dwarven skulls with. 

He decided to bypass the dark spectacles he had had made. He knew his eyes bothered other people, but he would rather simply keep his eyes closed than have to wear the bothersome accessory. Besides, these were dwarrow, they weren’t as squeamish as hobbits. Though he did have to wonder if they were aware he was blind. Knowing Gandalf, he doubted it.

He ran his hands over his clothes and through his hair before sighing. It was the best he could do. He just hoped he looked as presentable as he thought he did. Just as he was stepping out of his room, a knock reverberated through the hall. Well, that would be his guests.

He padded silently to the door, pausing to let his feet absorb any vibrations coming from the other side. He lifted a brow when he only detected a single set of heavy, booted feet. Another knock startled him from his wondering and he opened the door. “May I help you?” 

_~The Company~_

Dwalin looked down at the halfling only briefly before offering a short bow. “Dwalin, at your service.”

“Bilbo Baggins at yours.” The halfling replied with a short bow, his eyes kept low. “Please come in.”

Dwalin stepped in as the halfling stepped aside and closed the door behind him. “Where is it?” He asked gruffly before the door had even clicked shut. He was starving and the wizard had promised food. Good food and lots of it.

“Where is what?” The halfling asked confused.

“The food.” He knew it was here. The house was filled with delicious smells. He figured he could find it himself and started to follow his nose. He only made it one step when he heard a dull thump and promptly ran into what looked like a walking stick. He turned to the halfling holding his stick pressed against the wall and blocking his way to the food. 

“Boots off, please. Coats go there and weapons over there, if you don’t mind.” Master Baggins gestured with his stick while maintaining a serene smile, his head tilted slightly down. “And then I will show you to the food.”

Dwalin raised a brow at the halfling’s boldness and looked him over more carefully. He was just a wee thing, not even four feet. He looked soft and clearly well to do in his well fitting, expensive clothing. Attractive even, in an exotic kinda way, and stronger than he looked judging by the force he was just putting on that staff. And he seemed to keep his eyes closed for some reason, perhaps he was more nervous about confronting the dwarf than he looked. Still, Dwalin was impressed. “Alright.” He finally answered and moved to do as he was told. 

He watched the halfling as he was led to the kitchen where his attention was immediately arrested by the sheer amount and quality of the food on offer. He was staring with wide eyes when Master Baggins spoke up again. “The plates are over there. Help yourself. I’m sure you’re hungry. There’s ale in the dining room. Enjoy your dinner. There’s a washroom down the hall, should you need it. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Dwalin didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately found a plate and started filling it up with as much as it would fit. Another knock sounded through the house and, when Dwalin looked up, the halfling was gone.

~~~~~

Balin turned back to the door just as it opened to reveal a small hobbit. “Balin, at your service.” He sketched a bow politely. 

“Bilbo Baggins at yours. Please come in.” The hobbit let him in. “Boots off please and you may set your coat and things here and here.”

Balin raised a brow but nodded and obliged. 

“One of your number has already arrived, I believe. I will show you to him when you are ready.” Master Baggins offered as Balin relieved himself of his burdens.

“Aye.” Balin examined the hobbit out of corner of his eye as he set his things aside. He was clearly a wealthy individual, accustomed to luxurious living. Hardly looked like burglar material. And the way he carried himself was . . strange. 

Master Baggins was patiently waiting for him, both hands resting on the handle of his walking stick in front of him and head tilted downward just enough to prevent a full view of his face.

Balin stepped forward and the hobbit immediately turned to lead him down the hall. He stopped at an open archway and gestured into the room for Balin to proceed. “Please help yourself. If you desire anything, simply ask.”

Balin’s wide eyes landed on the plethora of food before him. “This is quite the generous feast, Master Baggins.”

“I hope it is to your liking. Your companion in in the dining room, just through there, nursing the ale already, no doubt.” Master Baggins gestured to another open archway.

“Aye. Thank ye, Master Baggins, ye have a wonderful home and yer hospitality is impeccable.” Balin praised. There was something about this hobbit, he just couldn’t put his finger on it, but, as long as he was being openly generous with his resources, there was no reason to offer anything but respect.

“Thank you, Master Balin. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make you more comfortable.” Master Baggins responded politely with a small smile.

Balin turned back from his observations of the food to give his thanks once more only to find that the hobbit was gone. He shrugged and filled himself a plate before making his way to the dining room where his brother was already stuffing his face. “Brother!” He greeted warmly.

“Brother!” Dwalin responded, parting from his food long enough to crash their skulls together. The traded greetings as Balin poured himself some ale and sat down next to his brother. 

**“What do ye think of the halfling?”** Dwalin asked without preamble in their own tongue. 

Balin was surprised by his brother’s question. Dwalin typically only took note of those that could be potential threats. **”He is different than I expected. Less squeamish, more open to strangers then what I have heard of halflings. Why? What has he done to warrant your attention, dear brother.”**

**“There’s something off about him. He wields that stick like a weapon, carries himself with confidence, but looks like he’s never worked a day in his life.” Dwalin grunted before chugging down some more ale.**

**“Confidence, you say? Yet he keeps his head lowered as if in submission.”**

**”Eyes closed too.”** Dwalin added.

 **”Closed?”** Balin hadn’t noticed that. That was odd. He couldn’t possibly be . . . No, that’s not possible. Gandalf promised to find them a burglar of great skill.

Balin started into his own meal just as there was another dual knock at the door. “Sounds like the princes have arrived. Someone should go make sure they mind there manners.” He gave his brother an expectant look.

~~~~~

“Fili!” 

“And Kili!”

“At your service!” They bowed in unison before popping back up to eye the strange little halfling. They had never met one before. Seen some from a distance, but never actually met one face to face. He was a lot cuter than they expected. Soft and weak, sure, but cute too.

The halfling sketched a short bow in return, a small smirk on his lips before letting them in.

“What a lovely home you have. Mr. Boggins.” Fili said remembering his manners and starting to remove the majority of his hidden weapons.

“It’s Baggins. And your weapons go over there.”

“Yes! Very lovely burrow.” Kili added as the two bustled around the halfling. “Mind if I clean my boots off? They’re a bit muddy.” 

He had his leg lifted just about to scrape his boot off on a nice wooden box that looked perfect for scraping boots on when something collided with his foot just above his heel, knocking his foot into the air. Caught off guard, he lost his balance toppling over backwards with a yelp, landing flat on his back and eyes wide in surprise and confusion.

“No, you may not. You may remove them and set them over there.” The halfling motioned with his stick, the same one that he had just knocked Kili on his arse with. "And it's called a smial."

He turned to the blonde who was still gaping in disbelief. “And I told you that weapons go over there. I’ll not have them scattered about. If you can’t tend to them properly, then I’ll pitch them outside.” He threatened with an even voice.

A throat cleared from down the hall. Kili jumped up off the floor as he and his brother both turned to face the other dwarf. “Is there a problem?” Dwalin asked with his arms crossed over his chest. He scowled at the boys and their obvious lack of manners.

“No problems here, Master Dwalin. Merely laying down some ground rules for these youngsters here.” The hobbit replied in his usual calm tone and demeanor.

The boys hurried to do as Master Baggins had instructed under the constant glare of the old guard, muttering apologies when Dwalin sent them a warning glare. “Trouble makers, they can be. I’ll take ‘em off yer hands.” Dwalin finally said as way of an apology before ushering the boys to the kitchen.

“As you please.” The hobbit responded lightly. “The young ones usually are.” He waved them on.

As soon as they were out of sight, Dwalin grabbed the boys by the collars. **”What happened?”** He growled.

 **”I thought halflings were supposed to be timid and weak?!”** Kili gushed in disbelief.

 **”He’s certainly a feisty one. Makes him even cuter, don’tcha think?”** Fili winked teasingly at his brother. Kili had received the brunt of the halflings scolding. 

**“What did ye do?”** Dwalin growled more insistently. 

**“Kili forgot his manners.”** Fili was quick to accuse.

 **“I did not!”** Kili defended. **“I thought that’s what the box was for! Why else would it be sitting there!”**

 **“Ye offended our host!”** Dwalin scolded. **“Ye best hope we don’t lose our burglar because of ye! Thorin’ll send ye right back to yer mother!”**

 **“No!”** They both gasped. **“It’s fine! He was fine! Look, he’s fine!”** Kili gestured.

Sure enough, the hobbit was standing by the doorway. He wasn’t facing them directly, but rather seemed to have an ear focused on them. 

_Mahal, how is he so quiet?_ Dwalin thought to himself.

“Is everything all right?” Master Baggins asked mildly. “Is the food not to your liking?”

“No, it looks delicious!” Kili piped up quickly, eager to earn back favor. 

“Apologies. Just settin’ the boys right. They’ll not bother ye again.” Dwalin answered. Better to be honest than suspicious. 

Master Baggins chuckled softly. “Oh, I highly doubt that. But it’s alright. Thank you for your consideration.” He bowed his head slightly before slipping back out of the room, never once lifting his eyes to them.

“Something feels a bit . . off . . about him. What do you think, Kee?” 

“He’s definitely stronger than he looks.” Kili pouted rubbing at his tender bottom. “Why won’t he look at us?” He continued with a spark of curiosity that was sure to grow.

“What do you know about him, Dwalin?” Fili nudged the big guard.

“Not much.” Dwalin grunted as he stared at where the hobbit had slipped away. There was certainly a lot more to this hobbit than meets the eye and he was going to figure out what it was. “Get yer plates! Mine’s gettin' cold.” He pushed them towards the food and the strange halfling was forgotten in favor of a bountiful hot meal.


	12. Wild Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin wakes up wounded and confused in the home of a lovebird, a race so reclusive little is known about them. Stuck with his primitive caretaker until he recovers or is found, he struggles to overcome language barriers and cultural differences to learn about his host. Unwittingly, he finds himself growing . . attached to the little lovebird. But he's a king and he will have to return to his kingdom and Bilbo has never left his people's forest.
> 
> Bilbo/Thorin; Lovebird!Bilbo; Raven!Thorin; Cultural Differences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally see Hobbits as being the Lovebirds of the races. XD So, their nature and culture will be heavily based on Lovebirds.
> 
> Feel Free to make any requests. :)

Thorin woke to a great pounding in his head. Had there been a feast last night? He rarely over-indulged to this extent. He groaned and thought to lift a hand to his aching head, only to hiss through his teeth when he realized it wasn’t just his head that hurt. His whole body ached and throbbed like he had been trampled by a heard of oliphants.

He cautiously eased his eyes open, letting his blurry vision slowly refocus. He stared up at the strange ceiling. It looked like . . dirt. A dirt ceiling, curved, like it had been carved out of the earth. The light of a single torch flickered across the ceiling and he slowly turned his head, allowing his eyes to follow the rays back to their source. 

He felt something soft tickle his lips as he turned. His brow furrowed in confusion and he steeled himself to lift his head and look down despite the pounding like a smith’s hammer still throbbing through it. 

Curls? He wondered absently at first. Hair . . meaning a body . . somebody sharing his bed . . resting their head on his shoulder. His brows scrunched further in added confusion. He didn’t have a mate. 

His eyes traveled down further, trying to place the foreign warmth lying next to him. He startled, alarmed, when he realized his clothes were missing. Instinctively, he threw his arm up, the one the other warm body had been lying against, flipping the curly haired stranger right off the bed. 

The stranger hit the floor with a thud and a high pitched chirp of surprise and Thorin groaned deep and guttural as his own movements instigated his aching body. He forced himself to relax back where he was until the pain was bearable. 

He grit his teeth and looked over as the curly head popped up, holding on to the edge of the bed for support. The stranger looked groggy and disoriented, curls sticking up everywhere as he seem to chirp something at Thorin. He also had a bandage wrapped around his head, though loosened now with one side nearly falling over his eye. 

Thorin turned to assess himself again, realizing that he too was covered in bandages across a good part of his body. And he wasn’t _entirely_ naked, now that he got a better look. He was still wearing his small clothes.

He turned back to the stranger starting to feel a bit guilty. As far as he could tell, this stranger had taken him in and treated his wounds, despite being wounded himself. And Thorin had re-payed him by flinging him out of his own bed!

The curly haired stranger started trying to clumsily crawl back into the bed. Thorin wasn’t too keen on sharing the bed, but, seeing as it wasn’t his bed and his companion was injured as well, he figured it was only fair.

After the stranger’s second failed attempt to get back into the bed, Thorin reached out and pulled him in, ignoring the painful protesting of his muscles. The poor thing must have hit his head pretty hard.

The stranger gave him a low chirp before rolling into the bed and curling up next to Thorin but facing away. Thorin’s own fatigue caught up with him after exerting himself more than he should have and he quickly followed in sleep, but not before catching a flash of blue before his eyes closed.

The next time he awoke he was more aware. The warmth at his side was gone and he turned to confirm the stranger’s absence. There was light streaming in from what he assumed was the way out of the humble dwelling and he could see a little more of his surroundings. 

It was a burrow, dug right into the earth itself, yet, for all its simplicity, it seemed well managed and arranged. There was a small simply carved table accompanied by some stools in the center and several sets of shelves and weaved baskets around the edges of the room. 

There was a single torch set in the wall and quite a collection of strange primitive looking tools scattered about. For the first time he began to truly wonder just what kind of person his curly haired companion was. 

He tried to sit himself up, gritting his teeth and forcing himself up through the pain. He got as far as on his elbows before he gave up going any further. He looked about some more, glancing down at the bed before doing a double take. 

It was . . a nest! An honest-to-Mahal nest! With mud, twigs, grasses and everything! Though the top layer seemed to be generously supplied with a soft, puffy material. But, Mahal, a nest! Just because they had wings didn’t make them birds! The free people of middle earth hadn’t used nests in-in . . Well, he wasn’t sure they had ever used nests. 

His thoughts reminded him of his own wings, which had undoubtedly gone unattended for who knows how long. He tried to lift the massive black appendages forward to where he could see them only to be met with an agonizing pain ten times worse than all of his other pains combined. He dropped back into the nest unable to stifle the shout of pain that ripped out his throat. He gritted his teeth, eyes clenched shut and whole body shaking, as he tried to wait out the pain. 

A series of low twitters made it through his pain dulled senses and he forced his eyes open, if only just a squint. The curly headed stranger was back and hovering over him and twittering lowly in what Thorin suspected was supposed to be calming or reassuring. 

Suddenly something was pressed against his mouth and he clamped his lips shut, not that anything was going to get through his clenched teeth anyway. He forced himself to focus on the stranger who chirped something before bringing his hand to his mouth in a eating gesture. 

“No eat.” The stranger finally spoke before trying to shove whatever it was back into his mouth. 

Thorin glared at him through his short pants. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t putting it in his mouth.

The stranger shook his head with another chirp before taking the substance in his hand and holding it up for Thorin to see. Thorin watched as he took it and popped it in his mouth. He seemed to chew on if for a few seconds before pulling out the resulting pulp and again showing it to Thorin. 

“No eat. For pain.” The stranger says with just a hint of a twitter this time.

Thorin’s glare was renewed. He was no idiot or simpleton and he didn't appreciate being treated like one. He was perfectly capable of understanding a proper explanation.

The stranger held up another piece of the strange substance and hovered it over Thorin’s mouth, waiting for a response. Thorin looked him over, hoping to catch any hint of a threat if there was one. The stranger simply waited patiently and seemed to have resumed chewing on his own piece of the pain relieving substance.

Thorin relented. It didn’t seem dangerous and he could certainly use some relief from this crippling pain. He forced his mouth open just enough and the stranger pushed in the cube, carefully shoving it over into Thorin’s cheek with his thumb to prevent accidental swallowing. 

Thorin barely registered a soft petting over his beard as he forced his jaw to work enough to grind up the substance. A bitter, earthy flavor spread through his mouth and he swallowed it down if only to get the taste off his tongue. Slowly the chewing became easier and his muscles relaxed, the pain also gradually fading to more bearable levels. 

He opened his eyes again to find that his companion was gone and closed them to focus on chewing and relaxing. Several minutes later, the sound of utensils hitting the table alerted him that the stranger was back. 

By the time he opened his eyes, his companion was walking back over to him. He leaned over and pet the side of Thorin’s face, which he was far more aware of this time, and tapped at his chin before holding up another cube of what Thorin had deducted was some kind of root.

Thorin glared back and clenched his mouth shut, refusing to let some overly friendly stranger go fishing around in his mouth. The stranger sighed but reached out past the nest and pulled back a small wooden bowl, promptly holding it up to Thorin’s mouth. Thorin’s glare lessened and he managed to lift an arm to grab the bowl and spit out what was left of the pulp in his mouth.

His companion took the bowl and handed him another small cube which Thorin quickly popped into his mouth, eager for the added relief. Seemingly satisfied, the stranger got up and headed back to his table.

Thorin chewed for a couple minutes, letting the added affects of the root further relax him before turning his head to more carefully examine his companion. The first thing he noticed was the bright blue wings sitting almost directly across from him. At first he was mesmerized by the color before he fully took in their condition. He couldn’t help the disgusted grimace. They were a beautifully, exotic shade of blue, but they were in the worst condition he had ever seen and he had seen a lot of war damaged wings. 

They were small, much too small for proper flight. Even if they had been big enough for flight, they were too dirty, unkempt and missing too many feathers to be useful for anything. No self-respecting individual would ever let their wings get to such a state and Thorin’s nose scrunched up at the barbaric sight. 

Primitive and barbaric, his mind supplied as he looked around again and remember he was lying in a nest in a burrow. Were there even any people’s left this backward? His mind raced through everything he had learned about the people’s of middle earth, trying to place his strange companion and his stranger lifestyle. 

He scanned the stranger again. Certainly not a dwarf, to soft and hairless. Hair too curly to be an elf-child and he got the impression the strange creature was mature anyway. Which meant he wasn’t a man either, too short and ears too pointed. Certainly no orc or goblin or wizard. So, what else was there?

He stared in thought absently admiring the exotic blue of unkempt feathers while his companion worked at the table. There was one more race he was forgetting. It felt like it as on the tip of his tongue before he realized he knew almost nothing about the missing race.

The stranger got up and walked over to one of his shelves to get a small bowl and something clicked in Thorin’s mind as he got a better look at the other male. Short! Shorter than dwarves even! The smallest race! Halflings! Though their existence is common knowledge, almost nothing is known about them save for their general physical traits, and that known only through an occasional deceased specimen being found.

Halflings that were so reclusive and secretive that some considered them to be mere myth. The only surest evidence that Thorin had ever heard of their continued existence (save for the occasional dead body) was the near deafening racket that filled the forest where they were believed to live every year in the spring. Thorin had heard it himself once or twice. The occurrence also leading to the more commonly used term ‘lovebirds’ as it was assumed the twittering ratchet was related to mating season. 

Many had gone searching for the elusive race in the past. Many had ended up turning around and returning for some reason or other while others never returned at all. Over time, the other people’s of Middle Earth learned to leave the strange hidden people alone. 

And here he lay, King Thorin Oakenshield under the mountain, in the nest and burrow of one member of this highly elusive race, the home of a lovebird. He stared with renewed interest and fascination, wondering how rare encounters such as these really were. 

He was disturbed from his musings when the halfling stood up and grabbed a couple of baskets, a bucket and the bowl he had been working on before wandering back over to the nest. Thorin watched warily but couldn’t help but continue his studies of the lovebird’s features.

The halfling made eye contact with a small gentle smile before carefully lifting Thorin’s nearest arm and removing the bandages. Methodically, he washed every wound, which Thorin noticed the majority are simple cuts with a larger gash here and there, before smearing an herbal smelling paste and re-wrapping them with new bandages. 

Making no effort to resist, Thorin left him to his work and took the time to better study the little lovebird. His cheeks looked soft and hairless on his gently rounded face. A button nose and big eyes completing the over all youthful look. His hair was a mess of wild curls, and, though Thorin couldn’t make out the true color of them in the dim light, they bounced and swayed in a way that suggested a wonderful softness.

Thorin continued his silent observations while quick, nimble fingers made short work of the cuts on his arm and begin work on his torso. He fought down a blush as gentle fingers moved over his bare chest, stomach and sides. Nothing in the movements suggest anything untoward, but Thorin considered it a rather intimate situation to be in with the relatively cute stranger.

The halfling quickly finished Thorin’s torso, his other arm, which didn’t seem to be quite as bad, and his head. Thorin figured he was done when he got up and walked away only for the halfling to come right back with a small bowl and another root cube. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to decline. The pain was more manageable now.

The lovebird shook his head. “Wing. Need more.”

Thorin paled at the mention. That was not an injury he looked forward to jostling. But tending to it was better than having it heal wrong and losing his ability to fly. He spit out the old pulp and popped in a new piece, already feeling sick to his stomach in anticipation of the pain. 

The halfling bustled about, supposedly getting things ready but probably just waiting for the new root cube to start working. All too soon, he was back by Thorin’s side gently prodding at Thorin’s bad wing, which he was just noticing had been very carefully propped up. 

The halfling went about unwrapping and re-wrapping his broken (it was definitely broken) wing as quickly as possible, only pausing to tend to other minor injuries Thorin had managed to acquire. Thorin grit his teeth and tried to focus on anything but the pain.

How exactly did he get them anyway? He thought back to the last things he could remember before he woke up here. He and his guards were flying home from a delegation to the blue mountains when they were ambushed by a band of orcs (the nasty vultures). Thorin remembered the combat and slaying several of his attackers.

But then he had been hit, one of the vile creatures had clipped his wing, and another had slammed into him, knocking the wind from him. He had started to fall but had enough of his wits about him to glide away as best as he could. Another orc had nearly hacked his head off and he had managed to dodge, locking him in combat with the filth as they fell. He had killed his attacker but he didn’t have enough time to significantly slow his decent. The last thing he remembered was crashing nearly head first through the canopy of a forest.

Well, that would certainly explain his injuries. The lovebird must have found him after he crash landed. He jolted out of his thoughts at the sensation of gentle fingers running in through his feathers. He twisted around, jostling his broken wing and sinking back into the nest with a pained hiss. He managed to glare at the startled halfling. “Do not touch me!” He growled through clenched teeth.

How dare the insolent creature! It was unacceptable for anyone but one’s mate or closest family to groom one’s wings. It was even more improper than touching someone’s hair or beard. Even healers didn’t presume to preen for their patients, only touching wings as much as necessary for medical reasons. The halfling had crossed the line!

The lovebird stared at him with wide eyes, a strangely misplaced hurt seeping into them. Thorin was not at fault here, it was the halfling who overstepped his bounds!

The lovebird bowed his head and gathered the supplies before heading outside with the dirty bandages. Thorin let himself relax back into the nest as the adrenaline from the unwanted touch wore off. A part of him wondered if he had overreacted as he remembered the hurt and rejected look in his caregiver’s eyes. But he was a king! He would not be touch so carelessly by some stranger!

He must have fallen asleep, for the next thing he knew he was waking up to the pressure of a hand on his sternum and and the soft brush of another on his cheek. He growled drowsily at the overly friendly touches and swatted the hand on his face away. The halfling pulled away only to return bearing a large wooden bowl filled with sliced fruit and a wooden jug of water. 

Thorin’s sleepy brain registered the concept of food and he tried to sit himself up. The lovebird immediately moved to help, propping him up in a more upright position. Once Thorin was as comfortable as he was likely to get, the lovebird quickly poured him a cup of water and held it to his lips. 

Thorin guzzled down the water eagerly, downing another as quickly as the lovebird could pour it before he was satisfied. He didn’t know how long it had been since he had eaten or drank anything. 

Setting the cup aside, the halfling set the bowl of fruit on his lap and picked up a piece holding it out to the dwarf’s lips. Thorin glared. He may be injured, but he was no invalid. He was perfectly capable of feeding himself, thank you very much! 

The lovebirds face fell in uncertainty and he lowered his hand, the same look of rejection filling his eyes. Thorin reached out and took a piece from the bowl, helping himself, and popped it into his mouth. It certainly wasn’t his usually fare, but it was food, and, for some reason he couldn’t quite place, he didn’t much care for that look in the lovebird’s eyes.

The halfling set the bowl down with a smile that looked more like a grimace, making sure Thorin could comfortably reach it, and left again, returning shortly with his own bowl of assorted fruits. 

Thorin watched as he ate. The halfling's fruit wasn’t prepare and in a much smaller bowl. He set about cutting it up as he ate. Thorin looked back down at his overly large bowl and realized it might have been intended for both of them. Guilt crept into his chest as he considered how he had been treating the small creature who had been going out of his way to tend to an injured stranger.

They ate in silence as Thorin wondered what he could do to make it up to the lovebird. He realized the other male was still wearing a bandage around his head. Perhaps he could start with conversation. It might at least show that the dwarf was perfectly capable of it.

“What happened to your head?” He asked just loud enough for the lovebird to hear.

The lovebird turned to him tilting his head before pointing to his head and raising his brows as if in question.

“Yes?” Thorin was starting to get a sinking feeling.

The halfling chuckled softly before answering. “You.” He shook his head before meeting Thorin’s eyes again. “Strong. Hurt. Fight.” He pointed at the dwarf before shrugging and popping another piece of fruit in his mouth. 

Thorin swallowed his fruit almost audibly, eyes wide as several realizations settled in. The first was that somehow he had managed to injure the creature who had done nothing but help him. The second was that he had internally berated the creature for treating him as a simpleton when the reality was that the lovebird only had a functioning knowledge of the language he was using and was doing his best to communicate despite it. 

Guilt and shame swirled in his gut. He had been behaving terribly despite everything that the small lovebird had been doing for him. He should have known there would be cultural and even language differences when the lovebirds were so secluded from the rest of the world. 

He did not deserve the care he had been receiving. But he was an honorable dwarf, he would do his best to make up for his wrongs. “What is your name?” He would start by addressing him properly and not merely as halfling or lovebird.

The stranger met his eyes. “Bilbo.”

“Bilbo.” Thorin repeated liking the way the exotic sounds rolled of his tongue. “My name is Thorin.”

“Thor-in.” Bilbo tested the syllables on his own tongue with only a hint of a chirping accent. “Thorin.” He said again and smiled widely at the dwarf.

Thorin’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. Bilbo’s smile was beautiful and it beamed with forgiveness already given. Thorin’s own lips curls up, unable to resist a small smile in return.


End file.
